Jason was sitting in the principal's office with his arms folded and his lips pressed into a thin line. His typical gleam had vanished, to be replaced by the burden of bewilderment and rage that no seven-year-old should have to bear.
Lorna paced nervously down the hall outside the glass door. At the far end, Lucas stood rigidly, browsing through his phone as though disassociation might protect him from what lay ahead.
Ms. Yarrow, the school counselor, the kind-eyed woman with graying hair and the gentle voice of someone who had witnessed too many broken families fall apart within these very walls, led them into the tiny conference room a moment later.
"I appreciate you coming," she said, gesturing for them to take a seat. Jason has been going through a rough few weeks. He shoved another student during recess today. He responded that he was sick of people lying when asked why.
Lorna's heart fell.
Lucas scowled. "Has anyone inquired as to what the other child told him?"
Ms. Yarrow said softly, "We did." "It seems that the boy made fun of Jason for not looking like his 'dad.'"
Not a word.
Lorna's breathing became labored. Though neither spoke, her eyes briefly locked with Lucas's.
Lorna's throat tightened as she saw Jason's silent questions reflected in those crayon drawings. "There's something else," the counselor went on, "and Jason's drawings have changed. He's drawing two homes now, two father figures—one who's 'angry all the time,' and one who'smiles but stays away.' He's confused, and when children can't make sense of what's happening around them, they act out." The weight of half-truths and strained silence was finally catching up.
What do you propose, then? Lucas's voice was tight as he asked.
In response, Ms. Yarrow said, "I would suggest family therapy." "As well as open, age-appropriate discussions at home." Youngsters require clarity—and a sense of security—but not the entire narrative.
Slowly, Lorna nodded, her eyes stinging from the tears. "We'll...we'll find a solution."
Soon after, the meeting came to an end, and Jason was waiting on the bench as they entered the hallway. He asked softly, "Am I in trouble?" as he glanced up at his parents.
Lorna bent down in front of him and gave him a firm hug. "No, baby. You're not having any problems."
Lucas clenched his jaw and watched them for a while. "Come on. Let's leave."
As they walked to the car in strained silence, Lorna's mind was racing. She had wished to keep Jason pain-free and away from the mess they had created.
Now, however, the truth was evident.
They ran a greater risk of losing the one thing that mattered most the longer they evaded honesty.
She also had a feeling that they were running out of time.