Not then.
I held it in my lap.
“Why didn’t you come back?” I asked. “When you got sober. Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t you try to see Nathan?”
Ezoic
Greg was quiet for a long time.
Ezoic
“Because I didn’t deserve to,” he said. “I left my six-year-old on a curb outside his school. I made him think I was dead on the kitchen floor. I didn’t get to come back from that. Not after ten years. Not just because I finally stopped drinking.”
“That’s not your decision to make,” I said. “That was Nathan’s decision. He deserved to know his father was sober. He deserved to choose.”
Greg looked at me.
“Maybe,” he said. “But I was scared, Laura. I was so scared. Scared he’d hate me. Scared you’d hate me. Scared I’d go see him and he’d look at me the way he looked at me that day in the kitchen. And I’d pick up a bottle.” He shook his head. “So I stayed away. I told myself I was protecting him. I was protecting me.”
