Elijah tilted his head, studying them with the same intense focus he applied to complex math problems.
“I didn’t know I had grandparents,” he said finally.
“Everyone has grandparents,” my mother said, her voice trembling slightly.
“We just… we haven’t met before.”
“Why not?” Elijah asked.
The question hung in the air, heavy and unavoidable.
I placed my hand on his shoulder, drawing strength from his solid presence beside me.
“That’s complicated,” I said.
“Why don’t you go finish your homework while I talk to them?”
Elijah glanced up at me, clearly reluctant to leave.
“Are you okay, Mom?”
The protective concern in his voice nearly broke me. My son—my brilliant, compassionate son—worried about me, not knowing these people had left me homeless and pregnant at 17.
