A male voice answered on the first ring. “Hello,” it said.“Hello. Are you Antoine?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, as I tried to read that one word.
Was he skeptical? Angry? Nervous like me?
“I’m...” I began.
“I know who you are,” he said, cutting me off.
I tried to read him again. He was my son. This should be easy.
“Are you mad?” I asked, sure that if he was, I wanted to know.
“No,” he said. “Just a little unsure.”
“I got you,” I said. “I can totally understand that.”
“I just don’t know who you are,” he said. “I just don’t know how to do this.”
“Well, it’s the parent’s job to figure that out, right?” I asked.
“I guess so. I guess I figure out things for Charlie,” he said.
“May I tell you a story?” I asked. “It may help you better understand how I feel.”
“Okay,” Antoine said. “If y
