“I can’t tell him,” he said, lowering his voice. “Because then I have to tell him everything”

"T

here is something very wrong here,” Rabbi Ackerman said. He described his son Chezky’s sudden change in behavior: His usual sparkle was gone, and he seemed anxious and withdrawn.

“And he asked for me by name?” I asked. “How does he even know me?”

“He reads your column. He refuses to tell me anything, just that he wants to talk to you. My son is a very good kid,” Rabbi Ackerman stressed. “I don’t think he’s ever really been in trouble. He’s smart, he’s confident, he’s popular. This is not him.”

Sudden changes in behavior are never a good thing. The problem was that Rabbi Ackerman and his wife couldn’t find any reason for Chezky’s shift, and he wouldn’t answer their questions. He just insisted that he wanted to talk to me.

“Look,” I told Rabbi Ackerman, “it’s usually best if the child opens up to his parent. Are you close? Maybe go on —”

“ —a date with him,” Rabbi Ackerman finished. “I do that all the time, we go out every other Sunday.”

“You do?” I was a little surprised. “What do you —”

He cut me off again. “Whatever he wants to do,” he said. “We’re both musical so usually we book studio time at a music studio nearby, we just mess around on the guitar and sing and record. Listen, to save us both some time, let me just tell you that I leave my phone in the car, and we don’t talk about anything except what’s in front of our noses.”

Hey, that was my line. “Do I know you?” I asked.