« Honey, that’s nerves talking. Prom is in three weeks. Don’t put pressure on yourself like that. »
He looked at me for a long moment. Then his face softened, and he gave me that small, tired smile I knew so well.
« You’re right. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t want to spend that night alone again. »
My chest ached.
« You won’t, » I said quickly. « I promise you won’t. »
He nodded slowly and stood up, brushing his hand against my shoulder as he passed.
« Thanks, Mom. For everything. »
He padded back down the hallway, and a moment later I heard his bedroom door close with that quiet click it always made, as if afraid of taking up too much space in his own house.
The photographs blurred together in front of me. Birthday parties with three guests. A science fair ribbon he had won by himself. A field-trip group where the other boys stood in a knot, and he stood off to the side, looking at the camera like he was apologizing for being in the frame.
I thought about the bruises I had never seen but had imagined a thousand times. The cafeteria tables he had eaten at alone, and the voices that had called him weird for four long years.
