Page 45 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

For now, we need to pivot. “I have some questions about Max.”

“Of course. Ask anything.”

I plant my feet on the ground and lean my elbows on my thighs. “You said Max reads a bunch, and I’ve been reading a lot the past few years. I’d love to see what he’s into these days, if you don’t mind sharing. Might help us find common ground.”

“Honestly, I wish I could answer that.”

“You don’t know?”

She sighs heavily. “Like I’ve said, he’s gotten pretty introverted the past year. We talk at dinner and have fun when we’re out, but it’s like a switch flips at times. He won’t show me his sketchbook or talk about his books or friends. Just locks himself in his room for hours, and I made a promise never to snoop through his stuff. My mom did that, and it always felt like this huge invasion of privacy.”

Her mother invaded more than Sadie’s privacy, always finding passive-aggressive ways to make her daughter feel small. Even away at school, Sadie would get incessant calls from Mrs. Jones purposely bitching about her husband—he never helps around the house, he refuses to look for work, he snaps at me for no reason, he has no right to go through my credit card bills—knowing her daughter felt pulled to mediate. Be the buffer, even when their cruelty targeted her.

She’s trying not to be anything like her invasive mother, but Max’s self-imposed isolation suggests my gut feeling about him might be right.

I rub the space between my eyebrows, preparing to ask Sadie if she’s ever questioned Max’s sexuality, wondered if he might be gay. A sudden stitch cramps my side.

Max has been actively hiding his art from his mother. I might be the only adult who’s seen his sketches. If I break his trust, or if I’m wrong about his struggles, he might quit sharing his work and thoughts with me. Become more closed off. Before that happens, I need him to know whatever he’s feeling is okay.

“If you come across anything,” I say, “let me know.”

“Is something up?” Concern pitches her voice. “He showed you his sketchbook, right? Last hike.”

“He did and nothing’s up.” Men lie twice as much as women. Don’t be a statistic. Olivia, on the mark as always. “Max is insanely talented, though. Has a plane in there that’s unreal.”

“He loves aviation everything.” I hear the smile in her voice.

“You’ve raised an incredible kid.”

“You’ve already said that.”

“I’ll probably say it a million more times, because it’s true. Did you talk to him about seeing the new counselor?”

“He doesn’t love the idea, but he agreed to go. I’m hoping she’s a better fit than the last man. And he’s been a bit better recently. You two seemed to connect on today’s hike.”

“Have I mentioned what a great kid he is?”

This laugh is full of fondness. “I believe you did. The appointment’s in a couple of weeks. Might be a good time to introduce you, when he has someone he can talk to about it all.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I was gonna ask about telling him sooner, but that makes sense.”

As tough as waiting is, the time will allow me to delve deeper into his mind, solidify our connection. Find a way to show him he’ll have my love and support no matter what he’s going through.

“Thanks for being so great with him,” she says softly.

“Not a hardship.” I exhale long and slow, not wanting this conversation to end. “Guess I’ll see you Monday.”

“Definitely.”

I don’t hang up. She doesn’t hang up. The sun dips lower, brushing the sky in soft pastels—a serene painting I’d call Possibilities. We both breathe quietly, the elongated seconds adding to the tender ache I can’t seem to shake these days.

Unable to handle this sweet agony any longer, I whisper, “Have a nice night, Sprite.”

THIRTEEN

It’s not sunny, but no one seems to care. We’re half an hour into our hike, and once again the kids are engaged and excited. At least the three with me are. Max, Zoey, and Jasmine are following their map and compass, stopping regularly, discussing whether they’re still on track. We’re on an unmarked loop trail through forest and farmland. Sadie and I have GPS coordinates on our phones, but the kids are flying blind. I swear, every time they realize which way they’re supposed to go and their eyes light up, I feel a little thrill.

My Happy Hiking Leader persona has taken over.