More careful.
Whenever I asked about the baby we had lost, he would say he couldn’t bear to talk about it.
I thought his silence came from grief.
I had no idea it came from guilt.
Years passed.
By the time Cole started elementary school, our life seemed normal again.
Then one afternoon, he came home angry and threw his backpack onto the floor.
“Stefan called me his brother again.”
I almost laughed.
“Maybe he’s teasing you.”
Cole glared at me.
“He keeps saying we have the same dad but different moms. It’s annoying.”
Something tightened in my stomach.
But children say strange things.
I told myself that was all it was.
I told Cole to ignore him.
A week later, the principal called.
“Cole got into another fight with Stefan. You need to come to the school.”
By the time I arrived, I was prepared to apologize for my son’s temper.
