He left. That’s all that matters.”
“Did he… was he mean?”
She turned then, folding a towel hard. “He didn’t want us. He walked out. What more do you need to know?”
“But—”
“No ‘but,’” she snapped. “He’s not someone worth knowing.”
So I stopped asking.
I didn’t look him up when I got older. Didn’t wonder much. I built my life without him. Because as far as I knew, he didn’t want to be part of it.
Then one day, a number I didn’t know popped up on my phone. I almost didn’t answer.
“Hello?”
“Is this… Emma Carlson?” the woman asked. Her voice was quiet, almost nervous.
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