Others were copies he’d kept.
“I never received these.”
“I know.”
Some envelopes had been returned unopened.
He explained that my mother had moved us twice after the separation.
When he found our new address and visited, she told him I didn’t want to see him.
Later, he heard she’d remarried.
“She never remarried,” I whispered.
Arthur closed his eyes.
“Then I was given the wrong information.”
He heard she’d remarried.
“But why didn’t you keep trying?”
He didn’t defend himself.
“I should have. I was afraid I’d make things worse. Eventually, I convinced myself you were better off without me.”
“You should’ve let me decide.”
“I know. You’re right.”
His honesty hurt more than an excuse would’ve.
“Why didn’t you keep trying?”
For years, I’d imagined a father who’d forgotten me.
Now, I was facing someone who hadn’t forgotten me but still failed to return.
