I pulled it out.
It was a handmade unicorn.
Or at least it was supposed to be. One leg was unfinished, the horn crooked, and the whole thing leaned to one side.
“It was for you,” Emily said. “From craft class.”
I stared at it.
“Why a unicorn? Ethan loved dinosaurs.”
Emily wiped her eyes.
“He said you liked unicorns.”
The memory hit instantly.
Months earlier I had joked about my old unicorn coffee mug. Somehow he had remembered.
Beneath the yarn was a folded Mother’s Day card written in Ethan’s messy handwriting.
Mom,
It’s not finished yet. Don’t laugh.
Emily says the horn is the hardest part.
I love you more than cereal breakfasts.
Love, Ethan.
A sob escaped before I could stop it.
Emily started crying too.
Then she whispered, “There’s more.”
At the bottom of the bag was a crumpled note.
I unfolded it.
“Dear Mom,
I’m sorry I ruined the Mother’s Day display.
I know you’re tired of problems.
But I promise I’m not bad.
Love, Ethan.”
Confused, I looked up.
“What is this?”
Emily stared at the floor.
“Mrs. Parker made him write it.”
A chill spread through me.
“When?”
“Before he collapsed.”
She explained that another student, Mason, had accidentally ruined part of the Mother’s Day display. Ethan got blamed because he was holding glue while helping Emily.
“He kept saying he didn’t do it,” Emily whispered. “He said you knew he wasn’t a liar.”
I looked at the note again, seeing how hard he had pressed his pencil into the paper.
“He was scared you’d be disappointed.”
The thought crushed me.
My son had spent part of his final day worrying that I would think less of him.
“Did anything else happen?” I asked.
Emily nodded.
“He said his chest hurt again.”
“Again?”
