I bit my tongue. Sometimes, Charlie seemed a bit naïve, or maybe self-centered was a better way to put it. I was glad I’d raised him to feel invincible, but had I made him think the rules didn’t apply to him? That his lifeguard shift should take precedence over a police investigation?
My anxiety spun out. Was I one of the mothers I saw on TV who excused their sons’ heinous acts? Who said, “One event shouldn’t ruinmy sonand hisprecious future”?
“Yes, now,” I said.
“I’m supposed to work till three,” he whined.
“A woman isdead,” I said.
“But how do they know I—” he said, stopped himself.There was a long pause. His words hung in the air. I found it hard to breathe.
“Let’s go, Charlie,” I said, almost choking on the words.
He nodded.
In the Aquatics Office, we found John, a middle-aged guy who was probably younger than me with gray hair and a pot belly that hadn’t kept him from taking his shirt off. He was halfway through a breakfast taco, which he held suspended in midair when we appeared in his office. “Charlie!” he cried. “My man! What up?” He lifted the hand not holding a chorizo-and-cheese and gave my son a high-five.
“Um, this is my mom,” said Charlie.
“Hi, Charlie’s mom,” said John, smiling.
“Hi,” I said. “We have a family…situation…and I’m going to need to bring Charlie home for an hour, or maybe a few hours.”
He nodded, chewing. “Asituation,eh?” he said.
Neither Charlie nor I responded. On his desk, I saw theAustin American-Statesman. Had the body on the greenbelt shown up in the paper yet?
“Hokay, then!” said John, seeming a bit nervous at our silence. “You going to be back today?”
“I don’t know,” said Charlie. His swagger had vanished. “Mom?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
John looked from me to my son. “Hokay, then,” he said, eyes narrowing as he sensed our worry and began to understand this was not a jovialsituation.
“Thanks, John,” I said. “Goodbye.”
Charlie grabbed his bag from his locker and was texting before we reached the car. “They’re calling all of us,” he said.
“What?” I said.
“They know,” said Charlie, under his breath.
I broke my silence with effort. “They know what?” I asked.
He was reading his phone and scowling. “Oh my God,” he said. I did not repeat my question. I should have.I should have.I started the car and after a moment, the hot air pumping from the AC began to cool. “Mom,” said Charlie. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
This is where I could have become the mother I wanted to be, the one who listened without judgment, who allowed any confession and made room, allowed sadness and shame, all ofit.
Spoiler alert: I did not become this person. Charlie was looking at me, almost willing me not to break contact with him. But my phone chirped and I glanced down. Whitney had texted:GOT YOU A LAWYER. DON’T TALK TO POLICE.
“Mom?” said Charlie. “Mom, there’s something I need to—”
“Charlie!” I said, awash in relief, cutting him off. “We’ve got a lawyer! He’s going to handle this.”
“A lawyer?” said Charlie.
“Don’t worry,” I told him.
