“Can you come out for a second?”
“Just come out.”
I lifted my head from the back of the chair.
“Why?”
“Just come out.”
I looked at him, then at his mother beside me, who was rubbing lotion into her hands.
“Why? It’s just me and your mother. You can say anything.”
“Never mind.”
Johnny’s eyes flicked toward her.
For the first time all morning, he actually looked embarrassed.
“Never mind,” he muttered. “I’ll text you.”
A few seconds after he disappeared, my phone buzzed.
“He says he has swimming today. What pool?”
“I’ll text you.”
Then another message.
“Where is his swim stuff?”
I stared at the screen.
Our middle child had been taking swimming lessons for months.
Johnny didn’t even know where.
“Everything okay?”
I typed back the name of the pool and told him the swim bag was hanging on the hook beside the laundry room.
His mother glanced over.
“Everything okay?”
“Johnny needed to know where swim class is.”
She paused.
