Avery sits on the edge of the bench, elbows on his thighs, hands folded between his knees. How long has Jacob been in the monsignor’s office? He doesn’t know. Too long, that’s for sure. “What time is it?”
Beside him, his mother sighs. “Honey, relax.” She rubs his bunched shoulders as if she could rub away the tension in his muscles. She can’t.
“Mom,” he starts, but he doesn’t know what else to say so he stops. He feels impotent, useless. He hates this feeling.
After a little while, his mom laughs. It’s a small sound, forced for his sake. “He’s very cute,” she says. She has to be talking about Jacob.
Thinking of him brings a smile to Avery’s face. “He is.” He rests his chin in one hand and sighs. “Do you really think he can come visit over the break?”
“Sure,” she says. “Why not?”
Aver
