I waited.
“He was such a happy little boy,” she said quietly. “Always singing. Always laughing. He met Kei, Jake, Holland, and Sydney in elementary school. First grade. They were inseparable from the beginning.”
I listened carefully.
“They built forts together. Put on pretend concerts in our living room using wooden spoons as microphones. Sydney was the loudest. She always wanted attention. Even at six years old.”
She gave a sad smile.
“They stayed sweet through middle school. Sleepovers. Science fairs. Birthday parties. Then high school came… and teenage years hit like a storm.”
Her grip tightened around her mug.
“Then high school happened.” Her voice dropped. “He, Kei, Jake, Holland… and Sydney. They formed that band. Richard hated it. Called them bad influences. Said music was a hobby, not a future. He pushed Cal toward law school, internships, the safe path.”
She exhaled shakily. “Cal rebelled. Hard. Started staying out late. Coming home drunk. I covered for him every time. Toldhis father he was at a friend’s house studying. I couldn’t stand seeing him cry. He was my baby.”
“They became reckless. Rowdy. Sneaking out. Drinking. Parties every weekend. Sydney especially… she liked chaos. She thrived in it. I started seeing changes in her first. The way she encouraged them. The way she pushed Cal to test boundaries. I stopped liking her. I tried to separate them, but by then they were a unit. A pack. They’d chosen each other over everything else.”
My stomach twisted. “You protected him.”
“I enabled him.” Tears welled. She didn’t wipe them. “Then… something happened. The five of them, Cal, Sydney, Kei, Jake, Holland, went to a festival in Mexico. They were supposed to be gone three days. They disappeared for three weeks.”
My breath stopped.
“Kidnapped,” she whispered. “Some local crew thought they could ransom rich kid and his friends. They were held in a warehouse. No food half the time. Threats. Worse things.” Her voice cracked. “When the authorities found them… they were different. All of them. Cal came home silent. Wouldn’t look at me. Wouldn’t talk about it. Just drank more. Partied harder. Started using. Coke. Pills. Whatever shut it off.”
I felt cold despite the sun.
“They were… involved. Sexually. All five. During those weeks. And after. It never stopped. The group thing. The codependency. I knew. I saw the bruises, the marks, the way they looked at each other. I should have stopped it. Should have gotten them help. Therapy. Something. But I was terrified. Terrified of the shame. The stigma. What people would say about my son.”
She cried openly now. Quiet, shaking sobs.
“I should have intervened. Therapy. Rehabilitation. Anything. But I was terrified of the scandal. Of the shame. I convinced myself they’d grow out of it.”
My throat burned.
“They didn’t,” she whispered. “Cal started using drugs to numb everything. Alcohol. Pills. Coke. I watched my son fade while pretending it was rebellion instead of trauma.”
I stared at my tea. Mug shaking in my hands.
She reached for me. “Please don’t leave him after the baby comes. I see more of the old Cal in him when he’s with you. The way he looks at your stomach. The way he listens to Eli. He’s still in there. Somewhere.”
I set the mug down. Hard. Tea sloshed.
“I can’t carry his baggage, Eleanor.” My voice came out steady. Stronger than I felt. “I have Eli. I have this baby. I have my own trauma. I’ve spent my whole life surviving. I won’t spend the rest fixing someone who won’t fix himself.”
She flinched.
“I’m not leaving yet,” I continued. “But I’m not promising forever either. He has to want to heal. Not just for the baby. For him. And if he doesn’t… I will walk. With both kids. And I won’t look back.”
She cried harder. Nodded. “I know. I just… I love him.”
“So do I,” I said quietly. “That’s the problem.”
...
They came back in the afternoon. Eli ran to me first, eyes bright behind his glasses.
