He was never a loud child and he never asked for much, but he was incredibly observant of everything around him. He noticed the nights I went without dinner so he could have seconds.
He heard me crying behind the closed bathroom door when the bills piled up. He understood exactly what it cost for a person to stay when things got difficult.
By his senior year at Pine Ridge High, I truly believed we had finally made it through the storm. He had excellent grades and a handful of scholarship offers that promised him a steady, successful future.
Then, the atmosphere in our house started to shift. Westley began coming home long after dark and taking every extra shift available at the auto shop.
He kept his phone face down on the table and avoided eye contact. Some nights he looked absolutely terrified, while other nights he seemed strangely at peace, as if he had accepted a burden he couldn’t share.
Three nights before the graduation ceremony, he stood in the kitchen doorway nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Mom, I need you to listen to the whole story before you decide how disappointed you are in me,” he said softly.