He leaned back.
“I thought you’d be happy to help.”
“I am happy to help. I’m also still trying to understand how you lived three years without telling me you were alive.”
His face tightened.
“I’ve apologized, Mom. What else can I do?”
“Give me time. You spent three years making decisions without me. I can’t rebuild my trust in a few weeks.”
He stood and reached for his coat.
For a moment, I was back in that January morning.
“Are you leaving because you’re angry?”
“I need some time.”
“Then take it. But Julian, if we’re going to have a relationship, you can’t disappear whenever things get difficult.”
He hesitated.
“I’ll call tomorrow.”
“All right.”
I watched him leave without asking him to stay.
At eight that evening, my phone buzzed.
“I’m home. I’m okay. I need some time to think.”
