Page 6 of This Is Why

The table has gone utterly quiet and I feel like I’ve stepped into the middle of something awkward, like I’m the butt of some joke I don’t understand. Everyone is either staring at me or staring at their hands and it has me feeling itchy. Just when I’m about to say something about it, the little boy turns around. His eyes meet mine and he smiles, this gigantic thing that reaches down my throat, grabs my heart, and squeezes it tight.

“I’m Gabe,” he says. “I don’t know you, yet.”

It’s an odd thing for a kid to say, full of confidence and I swear, if I didn’t know better, a sense of protectiveness towards his mom. Except I do know better because I’m the same way. In fact, I’m sure, when I was about this kid’s age, I would have said almost the same thing if I’d come running back to the table to find some man sitting too close to mymom.

Looking at this kid is like going back in time to look in a mirror. The color of his hair. The quirk to his lip. The color of hisskin.

“Hi, Gabe,” I respond, offering him my hand. “My name is Ty and I don’t know you yet, either.”

Except I do. I know him verywell.

Too well. Everything about him reminds me ofme.

Gabe smiles broadly as he shakes my hand. “Oh, cool! Like, Ty as in Tyler? Because that’s my middlename.”

His statement solidifies what I already know to be true. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’m looking at myson.

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