I hated myself for thinking those things.
This was my son.
My sweet, quiet boy who still left cereal bowls in the sink and forgot to replace the toilet paper roll.
But the facts weren’t making sense anymore.
I decided that the next morning, we were going to sit down.
No excuses.
No privacy.
No “almost there.”
I was going to get the truth.
But before I had the chance, Evan’s boss called me.
I was at work when an unfamiliar number appeared on my phone.
“Hello?”
“The voice belonged to an older man.
“Yes. Who’s calling?”
“This is Sal. I own the diner where Evan works.”
My stomach immediately tightened.
“Is something wrong?”
There was a pause.
Then Sal said,
“I need to talk to you about your son.”
My heart started pounding.
“Did Evan do something?”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
“I honestly don’t know how to answer that.”
I stood from my desk.
“What does that mean?”
Then Sal asked something completely unexpected.
“Do you know what Evan does with every paycheck?”
I frowned.
“He saves it.”
“For what?”
“A bicycle.”
Sal let out a slow breath.
When he spoke again, his voice had changed.
“Ma’am, you should probably sit down.”
I gripped the edge of my desk.
“Why?”
“Because what Evan has been telling you about that money isn’t true.”
My stomach dropped.
“What are you talking about?”
“He isn’t saving for the bicycle.”
The office around me seemed to disappear.
“Then what is he doing with the money?”
Before Sal could answer, I heard shouting on his end of the call.
Someone yelled something I couldn’t understand.
Then I heard a voice I recognized immediately.
Evan.
“Please! Don’t tell my mom!”
I shot upright.
“Evan?”
There was another shout.
Something crashed in the background.
“Evan!”
I was practically yelling into the phone now.
“Sal, what’s happening?”
Sal came back on the line.
His breathing was heavy.
