I heard my daughter whisper into the phone, “I miss you, Dad” – I buried her father 18 years ago

And I hated that.

Because it meant she wasn’t a ghost.

The rage returned.

I sat, clutching my coffee mug as if it were the only thing connecting me to reality.

Woman looking out window | Source: Midjourney
Woman looking out window | Source: Midjourney

“You didn’t just disappear,” I said. “You abandoned her. For 18 years.”

“I know,” he said, his shoulders hunching slightly.

“You could have come back at any moment,” I insisted.

Charles looked down.

“I thought about it every year,” he admitted calmly. “But I always convinced myself that things would get better for both of you.”

I laughed. The cowardice was downright ridiculous.

He hesitated, his gaze drifting to the window as if he couldn’t bear to meet my gaze.

“Mom and I haven’t spoken in years,” he added quietly. “What she did… I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive her.”

Side profile of an older woman | Source: Midjourney
Side profile of an older woman | Source: Midjourney

Her voice broke. There was real emotion in her voice. But I wasn’t ready to let myself get carried away. Not yet. I rummaged in my bag and slid a document across the table, nearly knocking over her coffee mug.

His fingers trembled slightly as he unfolded the book.

“What is it, Allie?” he asked cautiously.