My name is Diane. My 19-year-old son, Tyler, had returned home after his freshman year in college and, for weeks, he hadn’t stopped talking to me about someone special in his life. He was finally ready to meet her new boyfriend, Noah.
I wanted that night to be perfect. I cleaned the house, prepared a roast of meat and took out the good tableware that I normally reserved for the holidays. Tyler had other relationships, but I’ve never seen him so excited about anyone.
I had told myself little things about Noah: that he hated mushrooms, that he played guitar pretty badly but with a lot of confidence, and that he had once crossed the entire campus in the rain because Tyler had forgotten the laptop.
By Sunday afternoon, I was really looking forward to meeting him.
When the doorbell rang, Tyler practically ran to open the door. A few moments later, he entered the kitchen accompanied by a tall, thin young man.
