Then My Son Called
The first call came three days later.
I recognized his number.
I almost didn't answer.
Finally, I did.
"Mom?"
His voice sounded different.
Less confident.
"Yes."
"Where are you?"
"Safe."
There was a long silence.
"Who picked you up?"
"Someone who cares about me."
He swallowed.
"Mom, we need to talk."
"We do."
"I didn't mean for things to go this far."
I looked out the window.
"Yes, you did."
Another silence.
Then he said, "We thought you weren't capable of handling everything."
I closed my eyes.
"You never asked."
"We were trying to help."
"No," I said quietly. "You were trying to take control."
He didn't respond.
Because sometimes the truth doesn't require an argument.
