Michael arrived two hours later.
When the doorbell rang, I couldn’t move.
Tyler opened the door.
My little brother was out there.
Now I was 45 years old, with gray hair in the temples and wrinkles around the eyes. I had gained weight, but I recognized it immediately.
It was Michael.
He was alive.
I didn’t hug him.
I only had one question.
Did Mom ever get to know?
His eyes filled with tears.
“No.
That answer hurt me more than I expected.
Michael explained that when he disappeared, he was drowned in debt. He had lost his job and was ashamed. He became convinced that disappearing would free everyone from the problems he had caused.
He left his car, left the city and began a new life.
He always intended to return.
But one year it became two.
Two became ten.
And every year that passed away made returning more difficult.
