His mother turned away from him then and walked up to me.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You don’t deserve this.”
Then she looked back at him.
For the first time since I’d known him, he didn’t argue.
He dropped the torn strip of wallpaper. It slid to the floor in a sad little heap. As he walked past her toward the door, she added one more thing.
“And don’t think I’m done with you.”
He paused in the doorway but didn’t turn around.
“We are going to have a long talk, my boy, but not tonight.
Understand?”
“Yes, Mom.”
He walked away, shoulders slumped, feet dragging. The front door shut a minute later.
Blaine’s mother exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for years. Maybe decades.
She paused, looking at the damage.
“We’ll fix this. Not just the wall.”
“Thank you.” I sniffed. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did…”
She smiled sadly and placed a hand on my arm.
I nodded.
I believed her.
If you could give one piece of advice to anyone in this story, what would it be?
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