The first Saturday, I nearly tripped over a loose porch step.
Luke appeared with a screwdriver.
“How long has this been like this?”
“You’ve been walking on this?”
“Couple years.”
He stared at me.
“You’ve been walking on this?”
“I enjoy danger.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
A month later, he called me Mom by accident.
He fixed it right away.
A month later, he called me Mom by accident.
“Mom, have you seen my charger?”
We both froze.
Luke turned bright red.
Neither of us mentioned it.
I pretended to search a drawer while hiding a tear.
“Kitchen counter.”
“Right.”
Neither of us mentioned it.
But he kept saying it.
Then, exactly two weeks later, Luke came to dinner and barely touched his meatloaf.
By the time the adoption was finalized, I had stopped waiting for him to become somebody else.
Then, exactly two weeks later, Luke came to dinner and barely touched his meatloaf.
