The Empty House

PART 2 — THE LIFE HE LEFT BEHIND

Daniel sat on the kitchen floor for nearly twenty minutes.

He finally opened his email and searched Joanna’s name.

There it was.

An email from her attorney, dated eleven months earlier.

Subject: Final Divorce Documents — Daniel Mercer

He opened it with trembling fingers.

Joanna had filed for divorce after he stopped responding to her messages.

The documents had been sent to his registered address in Columbus. He had signed the acknowledgment electronically and never bothered to read the attachments.

The divorce had been finalized.

He was no longer her husband.

He scrolled through the documents.

Custody had been awarded to Joanna. Daniel had been granted visitation rights, provided he arranged them in advance.

But there was something else.

A handwritten note attached to the final settlement.

Daniel,

I waited for you to come home. The children waited longer than I did.

Owen stopped asking about you last Christmas. Lucy still asks sometimes, but now she looks at the door less often.

I’m not writing this to punish you.

I’m writing because I need you to understand that I cannot keep raising two children while also protecting them from the disappointment of having a father who repeatedly chooses not to show up.

I hope you find whatever you were looking for.

Joanna.

Daniel lowered the phone.

For the first time in two years, he felt ashamed.

He remembered Lucy’s sixth birthday. He had promised to call, but he had been at a company dinner.

He remembered Owen’s soccer championship. Joanna had sent him a photograph of their son holding a silver trophy.

Daniel had replied with a thumbs-up.

A thumbs-up.

He pressed his palms against his eyes.

Then his phone rang.

It was his older sister, Rebecca.

“Daniel? Where are you?”

“At the old house.”

“What?”

“Joanna sold it.”

Rebecca sighed.

“Daniel, you need to stop pretending everything is waiting for you.”

“Do you know where she went?”

“I know.”

“Then tell me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to see my children.”

Rebecca was silent for a moment.

“You’ve had two years to see them.”

“I made a mistake.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I just want to explain.”

Rebecca’s voice softened, but only slightly.

“Daniel, Owen is eleven now. Lucy is eight. They’re not babies anymore.”

He swallowed.

“Where are they?”

“They’re in a different town. Joanna has a good job, and the children are doing well.”

“Which town?”

“Joanna asked me not to give you her address.”

Daniel stood.

“You’re my sister!”

“And she’s the woman who raised your children while you were busy discovering yourself.”

The call ended.

That evening, Daniel checked into a hotel.

He didn’t sleep.

The next morning, he contacted his attorney and asked for the proper legal process to arrange visitation.

For once, he wasn’t going to send a casual message and expect everything to return to normal.

Three days later, an email arrived.

It was from Joanna’s attorney.

The subject line read:

Request for Contact With Minor Children.

Daniel opened it immediately.

The attorney explained that Joanna was willing to arrange a supervised meeting at a family center.

There was one condition.

The children would decide whether they wanted to see him.

Daniel read that sentence several times.

Then another message arrived.

It was from an unfamiliar email address.

The sender was Owen.

Dad,

Mom says you want to see us. I have one question.

Are you coming because you actually want to be our dad, or because you don’t have anywhere else to go?

Daniel stared at the screen.

He began typing.

Then deleted everything.

For the first time in his life, he couldn’t find an excuse that sounded convincing.