'Stones don't bleed, Jen. This isn't one of your warm,
loving Italian fathers.'
'Oliver, can't you just speak to him?'
'Speak to him! Are you crazy?'
She held the telephone towards me. She was trying not to
cry.
'I will never speak to him. Ever,' I said.
Now she was crying, very quietly. Then she asked me once
more. 'For me, Oliver. I've never asked you for anything.
Please.'