What if my
father would touch me, asks Jacob. In planning his deception,
it is not love for his father, nor respect for his age that drives
his hesitation; rather, it is the fear to be found out.
Covering his
arm with the hide of a kid, pretending to be that which he is
not, Jacob is now ready for the last moment he is going to have
with his father.
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If not the First Born
son, I might as well be a bastard; and so, in my quest for legitimacy,
I knew I had to betray my brother. I had to fool my father. What I
failed to foresee was the weight of regret; something that, to my
astonishment, grows heavier and more burdensome now, with every passing
year.
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