If she spent the night at a friend’s house, I’d sleep with my phone on my pillow.
She teased me about it constantly.
« You know I’m not six anymore, right? »
« I know. »
« You act like I’m crossing the country every time I leave the house. »
« I’m your mother. It’s in the job description. »
She’d roll her eyes, but she’d always smile afterward. That smile made every embarrassing moment worth it.
The evening everything changed started like dozens before it. It was the first Saturday in July, hot enough that the air still felt heavy long after sunset.
I’d invited three college friends over for dinner.
We hadn’t all been in the same room for almost eight years.
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