Looking back, that sentence is difficult to admit.
But at the time, fear had already convinced me that control and protection were the same thing.
The kitchen light in our house always came on before sunrise. I liked knowing where everyone was, what the day looked like, which lunch belonged in which bag, and what time everyone needed to leave.
That was how I loved people.
Or at least, that was what I told myself.
When Lucas started freshman year, he came downstairs on the first morning with his hair sticking up and a grin that hadn’t yet learned to be self-conscious.
“Big day,” I said. “Did you pack the folder I left out?”
“Yeah, Mom.”
“Water bottle?”
“Yes.”
“The blue one?”
He sighed.
“Yes, Mom.”
“And you remember your first classroom is on the opposite side of—”
“Mom.”
He smiled.
“I’m fine.”
Fine.
That word would become almost meaningless between us over the following year.
At first, freshman year seemed exciting.
