Page 95 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

Dylan takes the chair at the head of the table, sitting next to her, while I sit down directly across from her.

“It’s almost midnight on a school night,” she begins. “Please explain where the two of you were until this hour.”

Dylan doesn’t look at her and keeps his eyes on the table when he answers. “At my house.”

“At your house? And you thought it was fine to keep my daughter at your house until now?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Diaz. I didn’t mean to keep her out this late. I fell asleep and?”

“You fell asleep,” she cuts in. I don’t know if it’s his somber tone or the words themselves that get my mother to change the direction of her...scolding. “Look at me.”

He tentatively lifts his eyes to meet hers. She studies him long and hard, and I think he feels exposed because he glances down at the table every few seconds.

“I’ve only met you twice, Dylan, and you’re usually a lot more...animated, so I can see that you’re not yourself today.”

“No,” he answers softly.

“Are you high?”

“No, ma’am. I don’t drink. I don’t do drugs.”

She believes that but shifts back and scrutinizes him again as if she’s trying to figure out what’s wrong. “Something is hurting you?”

Dylan immediately slumps down in the chair. He drops his head again, using one hand to cover his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose. He exhales a few shaky breaths. Beneath my mother’s tough exterior, she’s a softy. She hates seeing people suffer, and whatever animosity she may have been harboring dissipates that very instant.

She waits patiently, and when he doesn’t answer, she looks over at me. “Isa, go make him some coffee.”

Warily, I stand up, not sure if I should leave him. I walk to the kitchen then busy myself making a cup of coffee, trying to be as quiet as possible, so I can still hear what they’re saying.

She lays a gentle hand on his. “You don’t have to tell me the problem; just tell me if it’s at home or at school.”

He’s reluctant to answer. “At home.”

I don’t know if it’s my mother’s job as a nurse that has made her so perceptive and compassionate, but her voice becomes more tender the longer she speaks to him. “In my profession, I’ve seen many cases of abuse, so know that this is a safe space if there’s anything you would like to report.”

Dylan cringes at the suggestion. “My parents would never hurt me.”

“But you seem to be carrying a heavy burden,” she says softly. “I can see it because I’ve placed the same heavy burden on the shoulders of my daughters. Are you an only child?”

“No.” He shakes his head, still not making eye contact. “I have a younger sister.”

“You’re the eldest. That makes more sense. The eldest child often forgets their place. They forget they are children and take on the responsibilities of their parents, even when we don’t ask them to. Do you feel like that’s true?”

He nods.

“You know, sometimes it’s okay to just be a teenager.” She casts a glance in my direction to let me know that applies to me, too. “Sometimes we parents forget the burdens we place on you. Now and then, you need to take a break from responsibilities that are not yours and enjoy being young. Do you do that?”

“I, uh, I feel like I do that a lot more...when I’m with Isabella.” He risks meeting her eyes and a small smile plays on his lips. “It’s why you keep finding me out in the street with her, Mrs. Diaz.”

She tries not to smile at that. “That’s still no excuse.”

I bring back a cup of steaming coffee, placing it in front of him before I sit down.

“Thank you.” His eyes move back to my mother. “And thank you, Mrs. Diaz...for not...cutting off my limbs. I appreciate it.”

He keeps a straight face and this time she can’t resist a smile. “There’s still time.”

She chats with him while he sips his coffee. Just like she did with Scott, she tries to get to know him, asking him about school and football, but every time the conversation steers toward his family, he deflects and makes it about her, asking her about work and my dad. My mother doesn’t notice because he is very skilled at hiding theotherside of himself. His mood seems to lift and about fifteen minutes in, he starts cracking jokes. He starts to look and sound likehim.

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