And Tobin went back to being alone.
For years, he told me that didn’t bother him.
“I like eating by myself, Mom. I can read.”
I wanted to believe him.
Then, during a parent-teacher conference in his junior year, his English teacher mentioned casually that she often saw Tobin sitting alone during lunch.
“He seems perfectly comfortable,” she assured me.
I smiled.
For illustration purposes only
But I cried in my car afterward.
There is a particular kind of pain in knowing your child is good enough to help everyone but somehow never the person anyone thinks to invite.
By senior year, prom posters were appearing in every hallway.
Tobin acted as if they were advertisements for something happening in another country.
Whenever I asked whether he planned to go, he shrugged.
