She also began wearing oversized hoodies, even on warm mornings.
One evening, I found her sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone with tears in her eyes.
“Em?”
She quickly turned the screen off.
“What?”
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
I stood in the doorway.
“Honey, I can see your face.”
She rubbed her cheeks with her sleeves and forced a laugh.
“It’s nothing. Someone sent me a stupid video.”
“Then why are you upset?”
“I’m not.”
I wanted to push, but she looked so defensive that I backed away.
“All right. But if something is bothering you, you can talk to me.”
She nodded without looking at me.
I left her room believing I had done the right thing by respecting her privacy.
Now, after that phone call, I wondered how many times she had tried to tell me something without actually saying the words.
