The memory of handing him the garbage bag came back immediately.
“You were busy,” he said. “You’re always busy when I ask about Dad.”
I pulled out a chair and faced him. Whatever my failures, the lies still needed consequences.
“You’re staying home next weekend. No sleepovers until we rebuild some trust.”
He accepted that with a nod.
“And tomorrow, I’m going to your grandfather’s house.”
“You’re actually going there?”
“Yes. I want to see what you’ve been doing.”
Tears returned to his eyes.
“Then maybe you’ll understand why I couldn’t stop.”
***
That afternoon, I entered Frank’s home for the first time in three years. He greeted me at the entrance.
“Laura, I’m sorry.”
“You let two mothers believe their sons were somewhere else for eight weekends. You could have put an end to that immediately, Frank.”
“Nathan asked me not to tell you.”
