“Lying about what?”
“You’ll find out when he gets here.”
There wasn’t any anger in Andrew’s voice anymore, only certainty. He walked into the living room and remained standing.
I wanted to ask a thousand questions.
Where had he been?
Was he safe?
Had he been happy?
Did he ever think about me?
Instead, I stood there, terrified that if I asked the wrong one, he’d disappear all over again.
The silence stretched between us until the front door opened.
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Marcus walked in carrying a paper bag from the bakery. He stopped the instant he saw Andrew.
For the first time in our marriage, I saw genuine fear on my husband’s face.
The bag slipped from his hand.
Bread rolls scattered across the floor.
“You,” Marcus whispered.
Andrew didn’t move.
“Tell her.”
Marcus recovered quickly.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing.”
“Tell her.”
“I have nothing to tell.”
Andrew reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone.
“I was hoping you’d make the right choice.”
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Marcus’s face lost what little color it had left.
“What is this?” I asked.
Neither of them answered.
Instead, they stared at each other like two men who had been waiting years to finish the same conversation.
“I think you should leave,” Marcus said.
Andrew gave a bitter laugh.
“You’ve been trying to make me leave for years.”
I looked from one to the other.
“What is happening?”
Andrew finally turned toward me.
“Mom, do you remember my 18th birthday?”
The question hit me like a punch.
How could I forget?
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It had started so well.
I had spent weeks planning the party because I wanted Andrew to feel celebrated.
He had just graduated from high school. Even after everything he and Marcus had argued about, I kept hoping time would soften them both.
Andrew came downstairs wearing black slacks, polished boots, and a flowing burgundy blouse he absolutely loved.
He looked nervous.
I hugged him.
“You look wonderful.”
He smiled.
“I wasn’t sure if I should wear it.”
“You should wear whatever makes you feel like yourself.”
Marcus overheard us.
His expression darkened immediately. He didn’t say anything then, but I recognized the look. The one that meant he was storing his anger for later.
