“Keep your head down and follow me to the car. We get in, and we go. Do not say anything to the reporters.” “Ok.” “No, tell me that you understand.” “Jesus, Mom, I got it. Follow you, get in the car. No fucking talking. Let’s go already.” The look I gave him was the one I used to reserve for John when he pushed all of my buttons. It didn’t have the same effect on my son, but I could see that he was thinking about what he just said to me. I waited for his eyes to meet mine, and then I put a hand on his shoulder. I gave it the smallest of squeezes, nodded once, and then headed out the door. He did exactly what I asked, following closely on my heels. The reporters hurled their questions, and some of them made me want to stop and shout into the camera, but that wasn’t what we did. We were supposed to stay hidden, to blend in. None of that was happening now, and that had me worried.
