“A woman came here last week,” she explained. “She asked about the man wearing the Spider-Man shirt.”
Owen looked at her.
“I told her I couldn’t give out customer information. So she left this in case you ever returned.”
Inside the envelope was a drawing.
Spider-Man.
At least, it was clearly supposed to be Spider-Man.
His head was enormous.
One arm was much longer than the other.
At the bottom, in careful handwriting, were the words:
TO THE SPIDER-MAN SHIRT GUY.
THANK YOU.
FROM ETHAN.
Owen held the drawing with both hands.
There was also a letter from Ethan’s mother, Nicole.
She explained that she had been furious at us that night.
At Owen.
At me.
At the theater manager.
But when Owen asked Ethan whether he had been misbehaving because he wanted someone to notice him, something changed.
Nicole realized she couldn’t remember the last time she had truly looked at her son without a phone between them or an argument happening nearby.
