My son said dinner was canceled, but when I got to the restaurant…

It’s weird, when did he get so big? How’s school going? I ask, sitting him down at the kitchen table. Still struggling with higher math? I got an A on my last exam, Reed said proudly, eating his pie. Professor Duval even asked me to work on a research project.

I always knew you were smart. I pour his tea. Your grandfather would be proud of you.

Reed is silent for a moment, staring out the window at the old apple tree. I know what he’s thinking. George taught him to climb it when he was only seven.

Wesley yelled that we’d never do the kid any good, and George just laughed. A boy’s gotta be able to fall down and get up. Grandma, have you decided what you’re going to wear on Friday? Reed suddenly asks, returning to the pie.

Friday? I look at him puzzled. What’s going to be on Friday? Reed freezes with his fork in the air. A strange expression appears on his face, a mixture of surprise and confusion.

Dinner. It’s Dad and Mom’s wedding anniversary, 30 years. They have reservations at Willow Creek, didn’t Daddy tell you? I slowly sit down across from him, feeling something chill inside.

30 years of my son’s marriage is a significant date. Of course they should celebrate. But why am I hearing about it from my grandson and not Wesley himself? Maybe he was going to call, I answer, trying to keep my voice lighthearted.

You know your father, always putting things off until the last minute. Reed looks uncomfortable, picking at the leftover pie with his fork. I guess he does, he agrees without much conviction.

We move on to other topics. Reed talks about his plans for the summer, about a girl named Audrey he met at the library. I listen, nodding, asking questions, but my thoughts keep returning to this dinner.

Why hasn’t Wesley called? Is he really planning to celebrate without me? When Reed leaves, promising to stop by over the weekend, I stand at the window for a long time, staring out at the empty street. In the house across the street, Mrs. Fletcher my age, plays with her grandchildren. Her daughter comes every Wednesday bringing the kids.

They are noisy, running around the yard, and old Beatrice is glowing with happiness. I wish my children could be there too. The phone rings, interrupting my thoughts.

I recognize Wesley’s number immediately. Mom, it’s me! His voice sounds a little strained. Hello darling, I answer, trying to sound normal.

How are you doing? I’m fine. Listen, I’m calling about Friday, so you were going to ask me out after all. I feel warm inside.

Maybe I was wrong to think badly of them, maybe they were just running around and didn’t give me enough notice. Cora and I were planning a little anniversary dinner, Wesley continued, but unfortunately, we’re going to have to cancel. Cora caught some kind of virus, fever, the whole thing.

The doctor said she needs to stay home for at least a week. Oh that’s too bad, I’m genuinely saddened, though there’s something in his voice that makes me uneasy. Is there anything I can do to help? Can I get some chicken broth or… No, no, no, that’s okay, Wesley interrupts hastily.

We have everything. I just wanted to let you know. We’ll reschedule for another day when Cora’s better.

We’ll be sure to call you. Of course, darling. Give her my best wishes for a speedy recovery.

I will. Okay mom, I gotta run. I’ll call you later.

He hangs up before I can say anything else. The conversation leaves a strange aftertaste. Something’s wrong, but I can’t figure out what it is.

I spend the rest of the day flipping through old photo albums. Here’s Wesley at five years old, with a knocked out front tooth and a proud smile. Here’s Thelma on her first bike.

George teaching them to swim in the lake. Christmas dinner’s when we all got together. When did all that change? When did my children become so… distant? That evening, I call Thelma, casually asking about Cora.

To my surprise, she knows nothing about her daughter-in-law’s illness. Mom, I have a lot to do at the store before the weekend, she says impatiently. If you want to know about Cora, call Wesley.

But you’re coming to their anniversary on Friday, right? I ask cautiously. The pause on the other end of the line is too long. Oh, that’s what you mean, yeah, sure, Thelma finally answers…