up?
And several times that week, Ethan had asked me about the storage unit where I kept Ryan’s belongings.
“There are boxes of Dad’s things there?”
“Lots.”
“Can we go?”
“We will. I promise.”
I had thought it was heartbreaking but sweet.
My son wanted to know his father.
Standing in my kitchen with a strange object behind his ear, it no longer felt sweet.
I stopped touching the disc.
“Ethan, I need you to tell me everything about this man.”
His eyes widened.
“But first, I’m calling someone.”
I
