“Then come home. We can talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to discuss.”
I gripped the edge of the counter.
“What about Joel?”
Nathan’s answer came without hesitation.
“He’ll be fine.”
As though our son were someone else’s responsibility.
As though six years of fatherhood could be erased with three careless words.
Within weeks, Nathan had begun divorce proceedings.
He left behind unpaid loans, credit card balances, and a mountain of financial problems.
I worked mornings at a dental practice and cleaned an insurance office at night.
Most days, I barely had enough energy to eat dinner before falling asleep.
Joel learned to make his own sandwiches before he’d mastered multiplication.
Sometimes, he noticed things I wished he wouldn’t.
“Mom, why don’t you ever buy new shoes?”
I looked down at the worn sneakers on my feet.
“These still have plenty of life left.”
