This past year, an old high school friend looked me up after nearly 30 years. She was in town to visit her dying father. Our youthful parting had been quite unpleasant. She called to apologize for anything she had done to offend me in the past, which is commendable, especially because she has little memory of those years. She was an abused child. I didn’t tell her that one of her brothers raped me when we were teens. I figured she’d had enough trauma in her life, plus she was dealing with her dad dying. At one point, I came face to face with my rapist and realized I was no longer afraid of him, and that the past had no power over me. I felt I had no need to confront him or tell his sister. Instead, I reached out and shook his hand. Watching him squirm was enough for me. However, in hindsight, I wonder whether I did the right thing by keeping this a secret from my friend. When she called, she seemed to be fishing for information, but I decided that this particular piece would be too much for her to handle. Should I have told her?