I suppose I knew about it for some weeks before I saw what I saw. At first I wasn’t sure. See something like that, you don’t want to believe it, though it’s right in front of your eyes.
Then all the pieces fall together in your head, like the tumblers in a safe when you turn that last number. Small things that never made sense all of sudden did, things I would notice and put out of my mind. The way Pastor would smile at the boys when he come in to the dining hall, the way he kept his nails trimmed like a woman’s despite the heavy work we all do here.
Once you’ve seen it, there’s no going back. Can’t be unseen. Can’t be a secret. Before I saw it, all this was on him. Now it’s on me. There are more than thirty boys out here at the ranch, most of them from families with no daddy. They look up to Pastor, admire him. Hell, I did myself. That’s why it took a minute of seeing it with my own eyes before it hit home.
I should up and quit, leave and never come back. Maybe tell the sheriff on my way out of town.
I guess I’m a coward.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Authenticity_(philosophy)
Doubt if the ranch hand narrator had even heard of Sartre.
Interesting read. Left me wanting more of an explanation of what he saw.:)