Where the Boys Went on Weekends
“When is my son coming home? He’s been spending every weekend at your place!”
It was eight-fifteen on a Saturday morning. I was standing at my kitchen counter in my bathrobe, holding a cup of coffee, looking out the window at the leaves turning orange on the maple in the backyard.
I almost laughed.
“Denise,” I said, “what are you talking about? Nathan’s been at your house since yesterday.”
Silence.
The kind of silence that has weight to it. That presses on your ears.
“Laura,” Denise said slowly. “I haven’t seen your son in weeks.”
I nearly dropped my coffee.
“But he goes to Cole’s every Friday.”
“And Cole tells me he’s staying with Nathan!”
My stomach dropped through the floor.
Our boys had been best friends since kindergarten.
Nathan and Cole. Cole and Nathan. You couldn’t say one name without the other. They met on the first day at Cassidy Elementary, when Cole cried because his mom left and Nathan walked over and gave him half of a peanut butter sandwich. They’ve been inseparable ever since.
