“He arranged everything.”
“Yes.”
I stood so quickly my chair struck the wall.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“For all six weeks?”
“Yes.”
I stood so quickly my chair struck the wall.
“Nathan believed you would refuse to see him if you knew.”
“You let me pretend he was a stranger.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Nathan believed you would refuse to see him if you knew.”
“That was my choice.”
“He threatened to refuse treatment and remove me from every medical decision if I told you.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
Eric lowered his eyes.
“He threatened to refuse treatment and remove me from every medical decision if I told you. I told myself he was dying. I told myself six weeks of comfort would hurt less than the truth.”
I wanted him to defend himself.
“You decided his comfort mattered more than my consent.”
“Yes.”
His voice cracked.
“I was wrong.”
I wanted him to defend himself.
Inside were two bundles of letters.
It would have been easier to hate him if he had.
Eric opened the box.
Inside were two bundles of letters.
One carried my name.
The other carried his.
“Who are you to Nathan?”
Beneath them were documents leaving us joint ownership of Millie’s Diner.
I looked at him.
“Who are you to Nathan?”
Eric’s jaw tightened.
“His son.”
That hurt in a different place.
Nathan had panicked when she became pregnant.
Eric explained that Nathan had married years after leaving my mother.
Nathan had panicked when she became pregnant, left town, and returned months later claiming he wanted to help. By then, my mother wanted nothing from him.
He sent letters for years.
She returned them unopened.
