Instead, we talked slowly, carefully, like two people walking through a minefield. She told me about her daughters — Emily, who was six, and Zoey, who had just turned two.
She told me about her job at a community center, where she ran art classes for kids.
About Luke, who worked two jobs and still made time to help with school pickups and piano lessons.
She told me that she never stopped thinking about me!
“I just didn’t know how to fix it,” she said.
“You didn’t have to fix anything,” I said. “You just had to come home.”
There was a pause. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me back.”
I felt tears rise again.
“I never stopped wanting you.”
She invited me to meet her in a park near where she lived on a cold but sunny Saturday morning.
I barely slept the night before.
I took the train out early and arrived at the park an hour before we were supposed to meet. I sat on a bench, gripping my bag like it held my entire life.
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