The boy laughed.
Something sharp passed through her.
Later that night, she dreamed of the dock again—but this time, she didn’t fall. She stood watching as the boards rotted beneath someone else’s feet.
She woke calm.
In the spring, Richard finally came.
He didn’t announce himself. He simply appeared at the literacy center one afternoon, standing awkwardly near the door, older somehow. Smaller.
“Mom,” he said.
Margaret closed her book.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she replied evenly.
“I just want to talk.”
“I know.”
They sat outside on a bench. He spoke quickly, as if afraid she might disappear mid-sentence. About stress. About Evan struggling. About how families make mistakes.
“You scared us,” he said finally.
Margaret looked at him.
“You scared me first.”
He flinched.
“I could have died,” she continued. “And the person who did it laughed. And you did nothing.”
Silence stretched between them.
