Chương 5
Samantha opened the door wearing jeans and a gray sweater.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she stepped aside.
“He’s not here.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
The apartment was small but warm.
A stack of children’s books sat beside the couch.
A pair of tiny sneakers rested near the entrance.
A drawing was attached to the refrigerator with a magnet.
I tried not to stare.
I failed.
“That’s his.”
Samantha followed my eyes.
“What is it?”
“A family.”
My chest tightened.
The drawing showed three people holding hands.
A child.
A woman.
A man.
The man had a giant smile and messy hair.
“He drew that last month.”
I looked at her.
“Who is the third person?”
Samantha became quiet.
“He said it was his father.”
I swallowed.
“Does he know what I look like?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
“Then why did he draw him?”
She looked at the floor.
“Because he knows other kids have dads.”
That sentence stayed between us.
I walked farther into the room.
There were signs of a life I had missed everywhere.
A lunchbox on the counter.
A jacket hanging over a chair.
A half-finished puzzle on the coffee table.
Ordinary things.
The things I used to think would always be waiting for me.
“I want to meet him.”
Samantha nodded slowly.
“I know.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“I’m not unhappy.”
She leaned against the kitchen counter.
“I’m scared.”
The honesty caught me off guard.
“Of me?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Of what happens after.”
I had no answer.
“Ethan, you’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“You’re hurt.”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to want someone to blame.”
I looked away.
She continued.
“I understand that.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Her voice softened.
“Because I did the same thing.”
I looked back at her.
“What?”
“For years.”
She folded her arms.
“I blamed you.”
“You should have.”
“No.”
The word was quiet.
“But I also blamed myself.”
She stared at the floor.
“I thought if I had been easier to love, if I had fought differently, if I had said the right things at the right time, maybe you would have stayed.”
The honesty hurt more than anger would have.
“Samantha.”
She shook her head.
“I’m not saying this so you feel guilty.”
“It’s too late for that.”
“I know.”
A small silence passed.
Then she walked to a drawer and pulled out a folder.
My body went tense.
“What is that?”
She placed it on the table.
“Everything.”
I looked at the papers inside.
Hospital records.
Photos.
Letters.
Documents.
My name appeared on some of them.
My hands started shaking.
“You kept all this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked at me.
“Because one day Noah might ask why his father wasn’t there.”
I looked down at the folder.
Every page felt heavier than paper.
“I called you after he was born.”
My head lifted.
“What?”
“The hospital gave me your old number.”
“I changed numbers when I moved.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
She hesitated.
“Because your mother told me.”
The room became colder.
“What?”
“She called me.”
“When?”
“Three days after Noah was born.”
I stared at her.
“What did she say?”
Samantha looked away.
“She said you were happy.”
I felt sick.
“Happy?”
“She said you had a new life.”
I closed my eyes.
The pieces were starting to connect.
Not all of them.
Not enough.
But enough to understand that my absence had been built by more than one person.
“What else did she say?”
Samantha’s expression changed.
A sadness passed over her face.
“She said if I really loved you, I would let you go.”
I looked at the woman standing across from me.
The woman who had spent five years raising my son.
The woman I had blamed for leaving.
And for the first time, I wondered how many times she had chosen silence because everyone around her convinced her silence was love.
I looked at the folder again after she left.
I did not touch anything for several minutes.
I just stood there with my hand resting on the edge of the table, staring at the documents that proved I had missed a life I was supposed to be part of.
Five years of medical appointments.
Five years of school forms.
Five years of birthdays.
Five years of moments that existed without me.
The strangest part was not the anger.
I expected anger.
The anger had been waiting for me since the airport.
The strangest part was the emptiness.
There was a space inside me where memories should have been.
I should have remembered Noah’s first word.
I should have known what food he hated.
I should have known whether he was afraid of thunderstorms or loved them.
I should have known what made him laugh.
Instead, I knew nothing.
I was a stranger holding proof that I was supposed to be someone important.
“What are you going to do?” Samantha asked.
Her voice pulled me back.
I looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
That answer seemed to surprise her.
Maybe she expected anger.
Maybe she expected accusations.
Maybe she expected me to walk in and demand my place.
“I thought you would be furious,” she said.
“I am.”
She nodded.
“But not at you.”
The expression on her face changed slightly.
Not relief.
Something closer to confusion.
“Why not?”
I looked down at the folder.
“Because I wasn’t there.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have found out.”
The words came out before I could stop them.
Samantha studied me carefully.
“You really believe that?”
I looked at her.
“Yes.”
She looked away.
“Ethan, you left the country two weeks after our divorce.”
“Because I thought you hated me.”
“I didn’t hate you.”
“Then why did you sign the papers?”
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.
“Because you wanted to.”
The answer hurt.
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I opened my mouth, then stopped.
May you like
Because I remembered.
I remembered the night I packed.
