The next morning, I received a phone call from an unfamiliar number.
A woman introduced herself as Ms. Bennett, Logan's school counselor.
She wanted to discuss his recent absences and academic performance.
I explained that I knew about the attendance notice.
"I'd also like to discuss something Logan told me," she said.
My stomach tightened.
"Is he in trouble?"
"Not in the way you're imagining."
She explained that Logan had been spending time in the school library during classes he had stopped attending.
He wasn't skipping school to meet friends or get into trouble.
He had been trying to complete assignments for a scholarship program.
"He told me he wanted to qualify for a technical college," she said. "He seems very interested in electrical engineering."
I stared at the kitchen wall.
Logan had never mentioned that dream.
I knew he liked fixing broken appliances. I knew he could repair a lamp or replace a computer component after watching a few tutorials.
But I hadn't realized he was thinking about a career.
"Why didn't he tell me?" I asked.
Ms. Bennett paused.
"He said you were already sacrificing so much that he didn't want to ask you for anything else."
I closed my eyes.
There it was again.
My son believed that having a dream was another burden he would place on me.
The counselor told me that Logan had missed a scholarship application deadline because he lacked certain documents and had been trying to earn money for the application fees.
She also said he had been reluctant to ask teachers for help.
I thanked her and hung up.
Then I sat at the kitchen table for nearly an hour.
I had spent so much time worrying about whether Logan was becoming a troubled teenager that I had never asked what kind of future he imagined for himself.
When he came downstairs, I was still sitting there.
He glanced at the papers in front of me.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong."
He looked suspicious.
"Then why are you looking at me like that?"
I took a breath.
"Because I just learned that you want to become an electrical engineer."
His expression changed.
For the first time in months, he looked genuinely surprised.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: The Dream He Thought He Had to Bury
The Police Officer Was Holding My Three-Year-Old Son
Part 5 of 20
