I had refreshed his location on my phone so many times that the battery had started running low. My son was still at the venue. That was something, at least. Not nothing.
I told myself a dozen times to sit down. I put the phone on the charger, poured a cup of tea I did not drink, picked up a book, and read the same paragraph four times before finally giving up.
Then, three hours after my son’s departure, my phone lit up, and my stomach turned over.
The caller ID showed Madison’s name.
Not Nathan’s.
Madison’s.
Every awful scenario I had buried over the last few weeks
came roaring back. I pictured Nathan stranded somewhere, his suit jacket folded over his arm, that shine in his eyes gone. I almost could not make myself swipe to answer.
“Hello?” My voice came out smaller than I wanted.
“Miss Walker?” The girl on the other end sounded steady, almost gentle. “It’s Madison, Nathan’s date.”
“Is he okay?” I blurted. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no, please don’t worry,” she said quickly. “He’s totally fine. He’s actually on the dance floor right now. I just stepped outside for a minute because I wanted to call you.”
I lowered myself onto the arm of the couch.
“You wanted to call me?”
“I know that probably sounds weird.” There was a small, nervous laugh. “I just figured a mom might be a little anxious tonight. I would be.”
I pressed my hand against my forehead.
She was not cruel. She was not mocking.
She sounded genuine.
“That’s very kind of you, Madison,” I managed. “Thank you.”
“Your son is having a really good time, Miss Walker. People keep coming up to talk to him. He’s funnier than he lets on. Did you know that?”
A laugh escaped before I could stop it.
“I had a suspicion.”
She paused. I could hear faint music behind her, the muffled thump of bass through a wall.
“Miss Walker, can I ask you something kind of out of the blue?”
