Mason stares down at the candle flame as I read my list. I don’t offer explanations for any of the items, and I feel a new sort of lightness in me as I tear up my list and place it in the bowl. I haven’t actually found any of those items, but speaking them aloud makes that fact feel more okay. I want Mason to experience it too. “Your turn.”

He takes a deep breath, leaning back slightly. “Mine got sort of, ah, deep.”

I gesture to my scraps. “You heard mine, right?”

“Right.” He exhales again, meeting my eyes self-consciously. He ruffles his hair quickly. “Okay, fine. Here goes.”

Mason’s list is similar to mine in that he starts with simple things, slowly building bigger. Minecraft pillow. Copy of Children’s Atlas of the Universe. Red Converse.

When he gets to the last one, he pauses. “Okay, this is the big one.”

I lean in slightly, but it’s too dark for me to read it.

His hands are shaking lightly, the paper quivering. He takes a deep breath. “My mom.”

His eyes shoot up to mine. It has clearly cost him something to say this aloud, and my throat tightens. “Because she lost custody of you,” I fill in.

“No, I mean, yes, but it’s more than that.” He grips his paper tightly, resting his forearms on his legs. “I’ve actually lost her. Like I don’t know where she is.”

I look at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He shakes his head, making his hair fall into his eyes. “I used to have regular contact with her, but it’s been a while now. When I lived with her, we were constantly moving, switching states and jobs, everything. I know she went to jail at some point, and also that she was in a rehab center, but now no one knows. She was also homeless off and on. So I don’t know if she’s on the streets or safe or what. My foster care worker doesn’t know either, so I don’t have any way of finding her.”

The tightness in my throat intensifies. This is the big secret he’s been carrying. I have no words for him, so I reach out and grab his hand, squeezing it tightly. “What about Emma and Simon?”

He shakes his head bitterly. “They don’t know either. Emma was friends with my mom, but they haven’t spoken in a long time.”

We both stare into the candle; the wind is making the flame flicker, and for a moment I’m swallowed up in what this must feel like to Mason. I’ve lost many things, but not like this. My mom may be distant emotionally, but I always know exactly where to find her. I hold on tightly until Mason releases my hand.