“I guess it is,” I agree, staying as upbeat as I can. “Do you want to come back for dinner?”
Just then, her phone buzzes, and she glances down at it, her face softening as she reads whatever text just came in. “Actually… Ben just texted to say he’s bringing over dinner,” she tells me, already starting to blush. “And a housewarming present! What do you think it is?” She looks up, flushed and happy. “So… I guess I’ll stay here.”
“Well, that’s very sweet.” I’m disappointed Bethany isn’t having dinner with us, which is silly, because I’m sure she’ll be coming back for plenty of meals. As for her and Ben… well, itissweet. Even if I still worry, in a nameless, nebulous kind of way.
“All right, enjoy,” I say a little too brightly.
Bethany laughs. “You don’t have to worry, Mom. Ben is always a perfect gentleman.”
“I wasn’t worried,” I protest a little halfheartedly.
She gives me a skeptical look. “Do you think I can’t tell?” She surprises me by coming over to kiss my cheek. “Thanks for everything,” she tells me, her voice catching a little. “Putting up with me and my moods and all the rest of it… I love you, you know.”
Okay, this feels very official now, and I have to blink hard several times as I let out a shaky laugh. “I love you, too, Bethany.”
But she’s already turning away, texting a reply to Ben, her whole face alight. I murmur goodbye and head outside.
Once I’m in the truck, I fight the urge to bawl. I wasn’t expecting this to feel like such afarewell, but it really did. I remind myself that Bethany is only ten minutes up the road, and she’ll probably be back for breakfast since there’s no food there besides what Ben brings. That makes me feel only alittlebetter.My baby girl is still flying from the nest. Placing my hand over my ever-burgeoning bump, I remind myself I haveanotherbaby girl to think about, who isn’t leaving the nest until I’m nearing retirement age. It’s enough to dry the tears from my eyes.
Back at the house, William is once more on his laptop at the kitchen table, reminding me of the conversation we left unfinished yesterday. I drop the car keys on the counter as I rally myself for another potentially emotional discussion. Parenting teens is not, I reflect, for the faint of heart.
“Hey.” I pitch my voice light, casual, but as often is the case, I think I fail.
William looks up from his laptop, immediately suspicious. “What?” he asks, sounding nothostile, but almost. Sort of.
“I just said hey,” I say mildly. I go to the kettle as a matter of course and start filling it up at the sink.
“Sorry,” William says gruffly. “You just looked like you were going to have one of your serious conversations.”
“I didn’t realize I was known for them.”
William shrugs, his gaze sliding away. He’s definitely got something on his mind. I wait for the kettle to boil, letting the moment spin out. William doesn’t go back to whatever he’s doing on his laptop, which tells me he really does have something to say. Fortunately, I’ve been a mom long enough that I can wait it out. Just about, anyway, because the temptation to jump in and ask or assume what he’s thinking about is strong.
“I took the SAT,” William blurts, and I pause in reaching for the kettle, which has clicked off.
“You did?” Why did he not tell us? Doallmy kids have secrets?
“Yeah.”
“How…?”
“Bethany drove me. It was at Buckholt High School.”
I can’t help but feel a little hurt that he hid this from us. Why? And why didn’t I think about it, I wonder guiltily. William is atthe end of his junior year. I should have been thinking about standardized tests, but our life feels so removed from that whole high-pressured world.
“Okay,” I say, determined to let go of both the hurt and guilt. “And… how did it go?”
William smiles bashfully. “I got 1600.”
“Wow, William.” That’s a hundred points higher than high-achieving Bethany. I am genuinely impressed. “That’s amazing. Well done.”
“Thanks.”
I dunk my tea bag a few times, trying to figure out where he’s going with this. “So, what have you been looking at on your laptop?” I finally ask.
William ducks his head, as if he doesn’t want to answer.
“William?” I prompt gently.
