“Wade mentioned him,” I explained.
Dr. Harris watched Drew for a moment.
“My brother was 19 when he died. I was older, already working at the hospital. I kept thinking there’d be more time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He loved riding. We used to take trips together whenever I could get away.”
“Why did you stop?”
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“I couldn’t enjoy it anymore. Every time I saw the guys, all I could think about was the person who wasn’t there.”
I sat in the chair opposite him.
“My son has spent years missing somebody who’s still alive,” I said. “And I’ve spent years pretending that didn’t hurt him.”
Dr. Harris looked at me.
“I don’t know how to fix that.”
“Neither do I.”
For a while, we sat listening to Drew breathe.
Then I asked, “Did your brother ever want you to stop riding?”
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Dr. Harris shook his head.
“No. He would’ve hated it.”
