“He sent the payments directly to the school.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“No,” Mr. Lewis said. “It doesn’t.”
His answer surprised me.
He wasn’t trying to excuse either of them.
At the bottom of the bag, I found a rolled-up wall calendar. Several dates had been circled in red.
The dates matched the postmarks on my mother’s cards and the dates written on the checks.
Beside my fifth birthday, Dad had written four words.
Wait one more week.
I traced the faded ink with my finger.
“He was waiting for her to call.”
Mr. Lewis looked toward Dad’s empty chair.
“He recorded every time she contacted him.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“I believe he answered that in the letter.”
A thick envelope lay beneath the calendar.
My name was written across the front in Dad’s uneven handwriting.
I sat down before opening it.
Part Four: The Truth Dad Hid
“Daddy’s Bug,
If you’re reading this, then I ran out of time.
Your mother contacted me six months after she left. She said she wasn’t prepared to return, but she wanted to finish school. I thought that if she earned her degree and built a stable life, she might come home ready to become your mother again.
She didn’t.”
I had to stop.
The words blurred on the page.
Mr. Lewis placed a glass of water near my hand, but I couldn’t reach for it.
I forced myself to continue.
“Years later, I asked if she wanted you during school vacations. She said no. I offered regular visits. She told me her life was still too uncertain.
After she remarried, she agreed to a court order granting me sole custody.
