The judge gave me full custody. Greg didn’t fight it. He didn’t even come to court.
He called a few times. In the first year. Drunk. Crying. Begging to see Nathan.
Ezoic
I didn’t answer.
Then the calls stopped.
I heard things. Over the years.
That he’d lost the job at the garage. That he’d sold the Bronco. That he was living in his car. That he’d been arrested for public intoxication. That somebody saw him outside a liquor store on Limestone, panhandling.
Then nothing.
For years. Nothing.
I didn’t look for him.
I told myself it was for Nathan. To protect him. To give him a stable life. A safe one. Without a father who passed out on the kitchen floor.
And it was.
But it was also for me.
Nathan never asked about him.
Not when he was little. Not when he got older. Not once.
