Jonny, Jonathan... WC 284

Jonny, Jonathan

…

My sixteen-year-old son’s curfew is 10:00 pm. It is now midnight and I am looking out the living room window, worried silly.

I have called everyone I can think of, and no one has seen my Jonny. Of course, I imagine all sorts of terrifying things that could have happened to him. The scenarios are too horrible to repeat.

He is such a good boy, and I love him so much. I can’t envision my life without my Jonny in it.

A Mini-Cooper just pulled up and my son got out and is hurrying toward the house as I wipe my tears and blow my nose.

He looks fine.

Now I’m mad! He’s two hours late! He’d better have a good explanation.

I wait at the door while he fiddles with his house key in the lock. I’m not about to help him.

Once in the foyer, he says, “Mom, you’ll never believe what happened.”

“Where’s your bike, Jonathan?”

“That’s what I‘m trying to tell you about,” he continues. “I had a flat tire and had to thumb a ride. It took forever for someone to stop and pick me up.”

“You do have a phone.”

“It was dead.”

“Where’s your bike?”

“About five miles away by the side of the road. There wasn’t room in the guy’s car.”

“What were you doing on your bike five miles away, Jonathan?”

I had him now!

“Can we talk about this tomorrow, Mom? I’m so hungry,” he says as he kisses my cheek.

“I’ll heat the lasagna for you, sweetie. I know it’s your favorite.”

“Yes!”

He’s right, we can deal with this tomorrow. At least my Jonny is safe.