I told myself that while preparing dinner, while eating it alone, while washing the dishes and leaving her plate in the oven.
But when the sun went down and his room was still empty, I could no longer ignore the feeling that something was wrong.
I called his phone. He went straight to voicemail.
By ten, I was already driving around the neighborhood, looking for him. By midnight, she was sitting at a police station to report her missing.
The police officer asked questions, took notes and finally told me, “Sometimes teenagers leave for a couple of days. Discussions with parents, that kind of thing.”
“Daniel is not like that,” I replied. “Daniel is kind and sensitive. He’s the kind of guy who apologizes when someone hits him.”
The officer gave me a sympathetic smile. “We will present a report, ma’am.” But I could tell that I thought I was another panicked mother who didn’t know her own son. I never could have imagined how right he was.
