Two Weeks of Happiness and Fear

The following two weeks were the happiest I had seen my son since middle school! The boy could not stop smiling.

Nathan came home one afternoon with a garment bag draped over his arm and announced that he had spent his savings on a navy suit. He modeled it for me in the living room, turning slowly and asking if the sleeves were too long.

“You look handsome,” I told him, and meant it.

He even practiced dancing.

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.”

“I know.” His voice was quiet. “But can you just be happy for me?”

I nodded because I could not think of anything to say that would not make it worse.

The truth was, I kept imagining her playing some cruel prank on him, one that would leave him heartbroken.

Prom Night Arrives

Prom night came faster than I wanted it to.

Nathan stood in the entryway in his suit, his hair combed back, a small white corsage box trembling slightly in his hand. He looked older and, for the first time in years, as if he believed he belonged somewhere.

“How do I look?” Nathan asked.

“Like a heartbreaker,” I said, and he laughed.

A car pulled into the driveway, and through the window, I could see her.

Madison.

She had long dark hair, a dress the color of champagne, and she was leaning against the passenger door as if she had been waiting her whole life for him.

She waved at me through the glass. Polite. Composed. Smiling.

I waved back, but my hand felt heavy.

“Be home by midnight,” I said.

“I will.”

He kissed my cheek.

Then I walked him down the driveway. I took a couple of photos of them together, saved Madison’s number in my phone, and made her take mine, just in case. Then she opened the car door for my son, and I stood there watching them with my hand pressed flat against my chest.

“Please,” I whispered in prayer. “Please let me be wrong about this.”

The taillights disappeared down the street, and I was left alone with a silence that felt far too loud.

The Phone Call I Feared

Hours after Nathan left, I was still pacing the living room in my socks.

I had refreshed his location on my phone so many times that the battery had started running low. My son was still at the venue. That was something, at least. Not nothing.

I told myself a dozen times to sit down. I put the phone on the charger, poured a cup of tea I did not drink, picked up a book, and read the same paragraph four times before finally giving up.

Then, three hours after my son’s departure, my phone lit up, and my stomach turned over.

The caller ID showed Madison’s name.

Not Nathan’s.

Madison’s.

Every awful scenario I had buried over the last few weeks came roaring back. I pictured Nathan stranded somewhere, his suit jacket folded over his arm, that shine in his eyes gone. I almost could not make myself swipe to answer.

“Hello?” My voice came out smaller than I wanted.

“Miss Walker?” The girl on the other end sounded steady, almost gentle. “It’s Madison, Nathan’s date.”

“Is he okay?” I blurted. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, please don’t worry,” she said quickly. “He’s totally fine. He’s actually on the dance floor right now. I just stepped outside for a minute because I wanted to call you.”

I lowered myself onto the arm of the couch.

“You wanted to call me?”

“I know that probably sounds weird.” There was a small, nervous laugh. “I just figured a mom might be a little anxious tonight. I would be.”