I Try To Cheer Up Quentin

“I talked to Mr. Daniels today,” I told Quentin as I slid him a plateful of pizza. He perked up, but I could tell he was trying not to get his hopes up. “It didn’t go great,” I admitted.

Quentin winced. It hurt to see my boy in pain. He had a mop of sandy hair, huge glasses, and stick-thin arms: he looked just like me when I was his age. I may have let my skinniness go a long time ago, but I still saw myself in him.

“I’m gonna try again tomorrow. I was… unprepared this time, but now I’ve got a plan.”

Quentin picked at the sausages on his pizza.

“I won’t let that bully get away with hurting you, I promise.”

My son finally met my eyes, “Maybe that’s just life. Maybe guys like Eddie can tease guys like me and still get all the girls they want.”

“No. No,” I said firmly. “That’s not the world I want to live in. Besides, you’re going to college soon, and, trust me, bullies like Eddie don’t get into your caliber of schools.”

Quentin hid a smile, “I guess so.”

I clapped a hand on his shoulder, “It’s settled then. You’re going to be just fine.”