Lonely Boy

The first time I see him is in March. He’s sitting next to me in one of the chairs in the waiting room. He has his headphones in and is staring mindlessly at his hands.

He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black jeans with some old beat-up Vans.

He has short brown hair that flicks up in the front. I can’t see his eyes, but I wish I could. A person’s eyes tell a lot about them.

At least that’s what I think.

The clock hits five and the door opens. “Rhett?”

I don’t know how he heard her because she spoke so quietly and his headphones are in, but he stands up and walks slowly into the room.

An hour later the door opens again and he exits, leaving the building right away.

“Ready to go, hun?” Mom asks after she locks up her office. I nod.

The car ride home is spent mostly in silence. My mind is working a mile a minute. “Mom, who was that boy?”

“His name is Rhett,” she answers, never taking her eyes off the road.

“What’s his problem?”

She smiles softly. “Mila, you know I can’t discuss that with you.”

I huff because there’s no excuse I can think of to get her to tell me.