"Hey Julie, you ever wonder what would happen if you could fool the magic pen?" 
     "Huh?" asked Julie, staring down at me. 
     "You know how they have the little pen to draw on the screen, retracing all the players moves before they flip on the instant replay?" 

Julie nodded as she started rubbing my cheek. 

     "Well, I was just thinking, what if the pen drew all over the screen, but then the players didn't do what they were supposed to?  Like if, in the game, Pippen drives the lane and dunks the ball.  Then the pen comes on the frozen screen and retraces everything he just did.  But when the instant replay comes on, Pippen pulls up short and hits the three instead."  I looked at her puzzled face.  "Do you get what I mean?" 
     "Yeah," she said searching my eyes, worry lines creasing her forehead. "But I don't think it works that way." 
     "Why not?" I asked.  "Why do they have to do what they're supposed to do?" 
     She replied slowly, "Because it's an instant replay.  It's only a recording.  Pippen can't change it." 
     "Oh," I said, crestfallen.  "It was just a thought." 
     She laughed at me.  "Dont look so sad," she said, lifting my head gently off her lap, and then pulling me up to stand next to her.  "I think you just need some sleep." 

I climbed under the soft covers and watched Julie as she got ready for bed, flipping off the lights and crawling under the covers with me.  

We lay in darkness for a long time.  

I couldn't stand the silence anymore. 

     "Julie, you awake?" I whispered. 
     "Yeah," she mumbled. 
     "Well, do you do you believe in that old saying, What you don't know cant hurt you?" 
      "I dont know," she yawned.  "It depends." 
      "What if its something" I paused, and then plunged ahead.  "What if its something that could hurt you?  Wouldn't you rather not know?" 
        Julie was quiet for a moment.  "I think I would want to know. I mean, its usually better to get things out in the open and deal with them, don't you think?" 
        "Even if there's nothing you can do about it?  And even when the knowledge would do you no real good, except cause unnecessary pain?"  

Silence.  

     "Do you still think you would want to know?" 
     Slowly, quietly, she answered, "Yes.  Yes, I think I would."  Now it was her turn to pause.  "Listen," she whispered finally,  "is there something you want to tell me?" 

We lay there, together in the darkness, the silence growing more and more oppressive.  she deserves to know about her father, I thought to myself, opening my mouth to speak, wanting to let go of it all. 

But before the words could escape I closed my mouth, trapping them all inside, feeling them claw at the roof of my mouth.  No one deserves to know that about their father.  I don't have the right to change anything.  I just have to deal.  And I'm doing fine. 

The tension in the air lifted, and was replaced by a peaceful serenity.  Like the calm that drowning people feel before they let the murky waters close over their head.  

     I closed my eyes and told her, "No, I don't have anything to say.  I'm sorry.  Go back to sleep." 

I lay there with that song running through my head again. 
 
 

     "...silence like a cancer grows..."