My hands were shaking when I pressed play.
Andrew’s face filled the screen. He was outside — I could see trees in the background, the late afternoon light slanting through them. He was trying to keep his voice low, glancing over his shoulder the way kids glance when they don’t want to be caught doing something.
“Hey, Mom. I don’t feel good. My chest hurts, and I feel really dizzy. Dad says it’s nothing and I should just sit down for a bit, but I’m scared. And you always said to tell you if something felt wrong, so — I’m telling you.”
From somewhere off camera, Brendon’s voice cut through.
“Put that phone away, Andrew. You’re fine. Stop making a scene and don’t go worrying your mother over nothing. Just sit down.”
Andrew looked back at the camera. His lips pressed together. His eyes were searching — scared, uncertain, trying to decide something in real time.
