“I just miss you. The way we used to be.” Mom reached for my nightstand, where I kept one of those tall cubic Kleenex boxes.
“Here.” I grabbed it and passed it over.
Mom sniffed and blew her nose.
I grabbed my own Kleenex and wiped my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“I don’t want you to be. You’re growing up. That’s what happens.”
I didn’t want it to happen.
I didn’t want growing up to mean Mom and I would drift apart.
“But I don’t want to lose you either.”
“You never will. Never. I promise.” Mom sighed. “I love you, Darius. Every single part of you. I never meant for you to think I didn’t.”
“I know,” I said.
I should’ve known that all along.
I was so ashamed of myself, for even thinking it.
“I was just scared.”
“Scared? Why?”
I looked down at my hands and rubbed the pads of my index fingers over my turquoise thumbs.
“I don’t know,” I said.
How do you explain the fear that someone you love might stop loving you all of a sudden?
But Mom said, “Is that why you haven’t told Mamou?”
Maybe Mom did understand after all.
Maybe she did.
“I just don’t want her to be disappointed in me.”
Mom held my face between her hands. “Oh, Darius. You could never disappoint her. You are the sweetest boy in the world. You know that?”
I shook my head. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m really not, though.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I’m not sweet. I’m selfish.”
I told her about Trent, and about Chip.
About Chip saying he liked me.
