Today, for the first time in over a year, I returned to my usual waiting place in the park. I kept running through what I planned to say. I waited until four o’clock, thinking that I must have missed him or that he wasn’t coming. Then, at last, he appeared, sauntering along with his hands in pockets, his school tie askew and his blue sports bag slung over his shoulder. He was listening to something on earphones, nodding his head in time to the beat.
I followed him out of the park gates as he headed down the road towards the Seven-Eleven at the corner of his street. I hesitated, then increased my pace. I knew that if I didn’t do it now, he would be within sight of his grandparents’ house – and the opportunity would be lost. I stretched out my hand to touch him on the shoulder and was about to call out his name. But something made me hold back. So I just stood there, looking at my hand in disgust, as if it were covered in infectious boils.
Jonah turned the corner, oblivious to my presence.