Daniel’s face crumpled.
“Then you’ve lost your son!”
Daniel walked out.
The door slammed.
I followed him onto the porch, but by the time I reached the sidewalk, his car was already pulling away.
Daniel walked out.
Daniel had already accepted a job three states away. Within a week, he was gone.
When I went back inside, Richard was sitting on the stairs.
“What happened?”
He stared at the broken photograph.
“This has to stay between Danny and me.”
Within a week, he was gone.
“He’s my son too.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me.”
Richard closed his eyes.
“Please, Tisha. Don’t ask me anything.”
Over the next four months, Daniel still answered when I called, but every conversation eventually reached the same wall.
“Mom, I love you. But don’t ask me to forgive Dad.”
