ADVERTISEMENT
I found a crumpled sheet of paper folded small, as if Randy had tried to hide it.
Dear Mom,
I’m sorry I ruined the Mother’s Day wall. I know you’re sick and tired, and I made more trouble.
Love, Randy.
Beneath it was a folded drawing with a purple crayon mark showing a paint spill.
Then I did.
Sarah looked down at her shoes.
“Ms. Bell made him write it.”
“When?”
My skin went cold. “Right before what?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
The kitchen went silent.
“He was sitting at the back table,” Sarah whispered. “Ms. Bell gave him the paper and told him to apologize for ruining the Mother’s Day wall. But he didn’t ruin it. Tyler did.”
“Tyler?”
Sarah nodded. “He spilled paint on some cards, and one ripped. Randy only had glue on his hands because he was helping me.”
I looked at the apology note again. The letters were uneven. Some words were darker, like he had pressed the pencil too hard.
“He kept saying, ‘My mom knows I don’t lie,’” Sarah said. “But Ms. Bell told him that even good kids can disappoint their mothers.”
My fingers tightened around the paper.
My son had left this world thinking I might believe he was bad.
“What happened after that?” I whispered.
Sarah pressed a little fist against the center of her chest.
“He said, ‘Sarah, it’s doing the squished thing again.’”
I gripped the chair. “Again?”
She nodded, crying harder now. “He told me before, but he said not to tell you because you had the flu.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“He said moms think kids don’t know things, but they do,” she sobbed. “He said he would tell you after Mother’s Day, when the unicorn was finished.”
“Oh, Randy.”
ADVERTISEMENT
