This realization was a double-edged sword. While my son had been returned to me, the trauma of the past two years was an ordeal we both had to overcome. For two years, Evan had been manipulated, led to believe that his father and I had abandoned him. He had lived in a parallel world, the world of “Jonah,” the name Melissa had given him. When we finally got home, he touched the furniture as if to check if it would disappear. He went to the bookcase and grabbed an old blue T-Rex that I had never been able to throw away. “You didn’t throw it away,” he whispered, clutching the toy to his chest. “I never could,” I managed to say between sobs.
The leg
