I, Carol, used to know everything about my son, Ethan.
My 15-year-old wasn’t the kind of kid who kept things bottled up. If something happened at school, I heard about it before dinner. If he liked a girl, he’d ask me for advice. Then there was baseball practice, which he loved attending.
He was quiet and good. That’s why the change that happened a month ago didn’t sit right with me.
It didn’t happen overnight. It crept in.
I heard about it before dinner.
At first, it was small things. Ethan spent more time in his room, barely talking to me. Then he started skipping baseball practice. He said he wasn’t feeling it anymore. That alone should’ve been enough to set off alarms because he loved baseball.
Then came the phone.
Every time I walked into the room, he’d slide it into his pocket.
I tried not to jump to conclusions.
Teenagers pull away. That’s normal.
But that behavior felt different.
At first, it was small things.
“Hey,” I said one evening, leaning against his doorframe. “You wanna talk about what’s going on?”
Ethan didn’t even look up from his desk. “Nothing’s going on.”
“You’ve been off lately.”
“I’ve just got a lot of schoolwork. Extra projects. That’s why I’m a little nervous.”
I watched him for a second longer, waiting for him to crack. He didn’t.
“Alright,” I said. “But if something is going on, you can tell me. You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” he muttered.
But I knew he wouldn’t.
“Nothing’s going on.”
Then he quit baseball completely.
***
A few days later, he left for school as usual. He had his backpack and muttered a quick “see you” on his way out.
Nothing seemed out of place.
I was on leave for the next few days, so I started laundry mid-morning. When I went into his room to grab clothes, I prayed he’d left his door unlocked, and he had.
I noticed the hoodie he’d worn the day before was tossed over his chair.
Nothing seemed out of place.
I picked it up without thinking. Out of habit, I checked the pockets. I’d learned that lesson the hard way after washing a set of earbuds. My fingers brushed against folded paper.
I pulled it out. It was a store receipt. I almost tossed it aside until I unfolded it and glanced at it.
Then I froze when I saw the listed items.
- Baby formula.
- Newborn diapers.
- Baby wipes.
- A bottle.
I read the list twice, my hands trembling.
It didn’t make sense.
I picked it up without thinking.
There was no reason, none, for him to be buying any of this.
“What is this?” I whispered to no one.
A dozen thoughts hit me at once, none of them good.
Was there a baby somewhere?
And if there was… what did Ethan have to do with it?
I sat down on the edge of his bed, still staring at the receipt.
A dozen thoughts hit me at once.
If I asked him straight out, he’d shut down. I knew that from experience.
No. If I wanted the truth, I’d have to discover it myself.
That day, I didn’t mention anything about the receipt; in fact, I left it and the hoodie in his room.
***
The next morning, I let Ethan leave as if nothing was wrong.
He grabbed his bag, said goodbye, and headed down the street toward school.
I knew that from experience.
I waited for a few minutes, then grabbed my car keys and followed.
I stayed far enough that he wouldn’t notice me, keeping him just in sight as he walked.
I planned to follow him the whole day to see if he got up to anything.
At first, everything looked normal, but then he didn’t turn toward the school.
He kept going.
“Where are you going?” I muttered.
By the time we were near the outskirts of town, my stomach had dropped so low it felt as if it might not come back up.
I planned to follow him.
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