“Christopher,” he finally asked. “What made you dig in that spot?”
Christopher could feel all eyes in the room on him. Especially his mother’s.
“I don’t know. We were just digging for treasure. Mom, can we go now? I have a really bad headache.”
“Okay, son,” the sheriff said, patting his shoulder.
That’s when Christopher sensed it. The sheriff smelled just like Christopher’s mother when she was “going out.” There was the faintest hint of his mother’s perfume on the sheriff’s jacket. Maybe from a hug or a kiss. Either way, Christopher knew the sheriff was mom’s new “friend.” His mother would mention the sheriff by name soon. And then he would be over at the house. Probably not for Thanksgiving. But maybe for Christmas. He hoped the sheriff was a good guy, who would be nice to his mom. But this time, Christopher promised himself that if the sheriff got mean like Jerry, he would do something about it.
*
That night, Christopher’s friends were snuggled up with their families. Warm in their kitchens like cookies on a plate. Of course, they were still grounded. Appearances must be maintained. But there was too much relief that their boys were not the ones buried out in the woods for their mothers to be too mean to their sons.
Especially since their sons were being so nice.
The M&M’s two moms made their favorite lasagna and were shocked when their sons cleaned up their own dishes. Special Ed’s parents couldn’t remember the last time their son only had one helping of dessert—and this was Mom’s special chocolate delight.
All through dinners and bedtimes, the families chitchatted the way families chitchat. About a lot of nothing that somehow adds up to everything. The parents were all surprised when their sons wanted to read a book instead of watch TV. But the evenings ended up being lovely. And when the books were read, and their sons went off to bed, each of the parents had the same thought that they would never speak out loud…
My boy is growing up. It’s almost like he got smarter overnight.
That is, except for Christopher’s mother.
*
Of course, Kate felt proud the way other parents did. Ever since his perfect math test, she saw how happy he was. Christopher was never that good at sports. He was never that good at school. And he beat himself up for it. But she knew her son was a world-class person. If they gave gold medals for being a good human being (and they should), then Christopher would be singing the national anthem on the podium every four years. And now, he was the same little boy she had always known and always loved.
But he was different.
No, he wasn’t possessed or a pod person or a doppelgänger. She knew her son. And this was her son. But how many times did she see Christopher struggle with remedial reading books? How long did she coach him through math drills? How many years had she seen her son cry because he didn’t know why the letters switched on him? He felt like a failure. He felt like an idiot. Then, suddenly, almost overnight, he turned it all around. But it didn’t happen overnight.
It took six days.
She forgave herself for not noticing at first, because she was swept up in it. She was so happy to have him back. So happy to see him safe. So proud of his sudden academic improvement. The reading. The perfect math test. The lottery. The new house. The new clothes. The bookshelf with the duck wallpaper filled with books that Christopher suddenly couldn’t read fast enough. But deep in her heart, something always bothered her about it.
When something seems too good to be true, it always is.
And that was it. It was more than the reading. More than the grades. It was the way he looked around. The way he saw people interact. It reminded her of the moment when adults start spelling to trick their toddlers. “Hey, honey, should we take her to the t-o-y-s-t-o-r-e?” “Hey, should we give him some i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m?” As soon as their children were old enough to spell, adults had to find other ways to hide the world under their noses. Sins and sweets and sex and violence tucked away with looks and gestures and sleights of hand like a magician’s misdirection.
Christopher never used to notice these things.
And now, he noticed them all.
Her son was suddenly bringing home straight A’s when there used to be C’s. Her son was speed-reading Treasure Island instead of stumbling through Dr. Seuss. Christopher studied the world with a knowing eye that simply hadn’t been there in Michigan. There was a manic quality to his intelligence now.
Just like with his father.
And now he was lying to her.
When they left the sheriff’s office, they fought their way through the reporters and cameras. Christopher’s mother finally got him in the car. She was quiet for a moment as she turned on the motor and let the defroster work its invisible magic erasing clouds from the windshield.
They drove home in half silence.
Christopher apologized all the way home. But she said nothing in return. Not to punish him. But to get back the higher ground. Her son was growing up too fast, and she needed to know why. She’d already lost a husband to an overactive mind. She was not about to lose a son. When they reached their garage and were finally alone, she stopped the car.
“Christopher,” she said softly. “I have to ask you something.”
“Sure,” he said, sounding relieved to have her talk again.
“Why did you lie to me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. It’s okay. Tell me.”
She saw his eyes twitch. She saw the response being measured.
“I, um…I knew you wouldn’t let me go out to the woods.”
“Why?”
“Because I could have gotten lost out there again. I could have frozen to death.”
“But you did it anyway. Why?”
“My head hurts.”
“Tell me why, Christopher.”
“To build a tree house.”
“Why? What’s so important about a tree house?”
“Nothing, I guess,” he said.
“So, you risked your life to build a tree house that meant nothing?”
He suddenly went silent. Then, he did the best impression of a smile she had ever seen.
“I guess it seems kind of silly now that you say it,” he said.
“I’m glad you feel that way. Because you’re never allowed in those woods again.”
“But, Mom—”
“You’re grounded until Christmas.”
“But Mom!”
“Christopher. Your friends can lie to their parents. Every kid on earth can lie to theirs, too. But you don’t lie to me. There is no debate. There is no time out. There is no big hug, and ‘I understand.’ I’m the fucking boss. And my only job is to keep you safe. SO, YOU ARE GROUNDED. YOU ARE NEVER TO STEP FOOT IN THOSE WOODS AGAIN. You got it?!”
“I’m sorry,” he said desperately.
“Sorry isn’t good enough. Not for me.”
His eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.”
“GO TO YOUR ROOM!”
Christopher went up to his bedroom, not knowing that once the door closed, his mother felt much worse than he did. She hated being that hard on him, but since she was unwilling to raise him with the leather belt she got growing up, it was the best discipline she had in her arsenal. She couldn’t let him lie. Her rules were still black and white. She couldn’t let him go grey. And she couldn’t let him out in the woods where they found the skeleton of a child.