I sat down briefly.
Then I stood again.
The waiting area had chairs, but I couldn't remain in one for long.
Every time I sat, I remembered Tommy trying to do the same thing at home.
I couldn't look at an ordinary chair without thinking about him.
I remembered the way he had asked me whether he could sleep standing up.
At the time, I had struggled to understand the question.
Now it seemed impossible to forget.
I thought about his earlier visits.
There had been little signs.
Nothing that gave me a complete explanation.
But enough to make me concerned.
His singing had stopped.
His nails had become a habit.
His requests to stay with me had become more frequent.
And whenever I asked what was wrong, he became quiet.
I had treated each change separately.
I told myself that children went through difficult periods.
I told myself that divorce affected them.
Both things were true.
But I had allowed those ordinary explanations to make me overlook the possibility that something more serious was happening.
That was my mistake.
I remembered one of our conversations with Lauren.
I had tried to explain that Tommy seemed frightened about returning to her house.
She accused me of encouraging him to dislike her.
I had denied it.
I told her I wanted him to have a good relationship with both parents.
She said I was making problems where none existed.
The conversation ended without solving anything.
I went home feeling that I had somehow made things worse.
Now I wondered how many times I had allowed that feeling to silence me.
A nurse passed again.
I looked up immediately.
She was carrying supplies.
She didn't stop.
I watched her disappear down the hallway.
Then I looked toward Lauren.
She was still wearing the jacket.
I wondered whether she remembered where it came from.
It didn't matter.
I no longer wanted to connect our old marriage to the decisions we needed to make as parents.
Whatever had happened between us, Tommy deserved to be safe.
I had learned that being quiet didn't always protect a child.
Sometimes it only protected the comfort of the adults.
I didn't want to make that mistake again.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: I Wanted to Be the Person Tommy Could Trust, Even If That Meant Admitting How Long I Had Failed to Understand His Silence
The Sunday My Son Stopped Running Into My Arms, and I Finally Understood That Something Was Terribly Wrong
Part 10 of 24
