They matched the postmarks on Mom’s cards and the dates printed on the checks.
Beside my fifth birthday, Dad had written four words.
I ran my finger over the faded ink.
“He was waiting for her to call.”
Mr. Lewis glanced toward Dad’s empty chair. “He recorded every contact.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
A thick envelope rested beneath the calendar.
My name appeared across the front.
I lowered myself into a chair before opening it.
“Daddy’s Bug,
“If you’re reading this, then I ran out of time, Simone.
Your mother contacted me six months after she left. She said she wasn’t ready to come home, but she wanted to finish school. I thought that if she had a degree and a stable life, she might return ready to be your mother.
She didn’t.”
I stopped.
My throat closed.
Mr. Lewis slid a glass of water toward me.
