I CAME HOME FROM A WORK TRIP, AND MY 7-YEAR-OLD SON SAID, “DON’T GO INTO MY ROOM” — NATURALLY, I LOOKED

any excuse ever could.

“I told myself I was protecting you from more pain. The truth is, I could not face what I had done. Every year I waited, it became harder to come back.”

Lauren spoke softly.

“He called me because he’s sick.”

I turned to her sharply.

My father slowly sat down on the edge of Bennett’s bed.

“Cancer,” he said. “It has spread.”

The room continue reading …