I pushed gently past her and looked through the peephole myself, yet the porch stood empty under the yellow porch light, and the cold night air moved only the branches of the oak tree in the yard.
We did not sleep that night, and Vanessa insisted it must have been a prank or a technical glitch, but I saw fear in her eyes that did not match her explanation.
Three days later my phone vibrated again in the afternoon while I sat in the living room, and the same name appeared on the screen with the same red heart beside it.
I answered while already crying and said, “Please tell me what is happening.”
The voice on the other end said, “Mom, it is me, I am alive, and I will explain everything soon, but tomorrow at nine in the morning you must come alone to Harbor Light Café, and you must not tell Vanessa.”
The call ended, and I sat staring at the wall because my mind could not reconcile a son declared dead with a voice that sounded warm and real.
The next evening Vanessa returned home carrying expensive shopping bags and wearing a bright smile that seemed slightly forced.