When my 10-year-old son started acting distant, I chalked it up to mood swings and figured it was just a phase. But one night, I woke up and realized he and my husband were both gone… and nothing could have prepared me for where I’d find them.
There are moments that split your life in two: before and after. I’ve had a few of those: losing my first husband when my son was just a baby… and finding love again six months later.
I’m Edith. I’m 35. And I have a son named Coby whom I love more than my own breath. His father died when Coby was just eight months old. A car crash. I barely remember that year. Just grief, formula bottles, and me sleepwalking through life.
Then came Dave. He was my late husband’s friend’s brother. He was kind, patient, and somehow… he never made me feel like damaged goods. He didn’t just take care of me… he took care of Coby like he was his own.
We never told Coby the truth. I always told myself there’d be a “right time.” But that right time never came. Not at five. Not at eight.
The kitchen light glared against the stainless steel appliances as I stood at the sink, watching Coby push his spaghetti around his plate. His golden hair, so like his father’s, fell across his forehead, hiding eyes that used to meet mine eagerly.
“How was school today?” I asked.
Coby shrugged. “Fine.”
Dave caught my eye across the table, and his concerned expression mirrored my own.
“That math test go okay?” Dave tried.
“Yeah.” Coby’s fork scraped against the plate. “Can I be excused?”
I wanted to say no. I wanted to make him sit there until he talked to us… really talked to us, like he used to. But I nodded instead.
“Sure.”
The moment he left, I sank into the chair.
“He’s pulling away more every day. I don’t know what to do anymore.”
Dave reached across the table, his hand covering mine as he offered a small, reassuring smile. “It’s normal at his age, Edie.”
I wanted to say no. I wanted to make him sit there until he talked to us… really talked to us, like he used to. But I nodded instead.
