When Emma’s father disappeared before she was born, my parents treated it like proof they had been right all along.
“We warned you.”
Instead of asking what I needed…
They closed their door.
The only text I received from them during the entire graduation ceremony came twenty-three minutes after it ended.
Congratulations.
One word.
No exclamation point.
No apology.
Nothing else.
I looked at the message for several seconds before quietly deleting it.
Some distances couldn’t be measured in miles.
As I adjusted Emma’s blanket, I heard someone call my name.
