I caught him one night in the living room with his phone propped on the bookshelf, swaying to some slow song and counting steps under his breath. For the first time in a long time, he looked genuinely excited!
I stood in the hallway and watched him, and my chest ached.
I tried to be happy for him. I truly did. But deep down, I could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. The closer prom got, the more worried I became.
The Question I Couldn’t Stop Asking
I tried, once, to ask the one question I could not stop turning over while working from home.
“Nathan,” I said while he was eating cereal one morning. “Has Madison… I mean, do you two talk much? At school?”
He shrugged. “A little. She’s nice, Mom. Really nice.”
“It’s just… it happened so fast. Are you sure she…?”
My son looked up at me, and the smile faded just a little.
“You think she’s playing a joke on me.”
“I didn’t say that,” I tried, backtracking.
“You don’t have to.”
“Honey, I just want to protect you.”
