He's just like me,' I think, amazed despite the pain. 'He's just a grownup boy, stuck in a body, stuck in a life. And his life isn't working. It's not working at all. And he's got no father, his mother can't understand, he's go no one to help him fix it.' Feeling this, knowing it, I turn and try to hold my father, as he's so often held me. He makes a small rasping sound when my arms slide round him, then wraps me up, very gently, and holds me back. He says nothing more, but I feel his broken breath, his broken love, his fear and heartbeat.