He asked about a game Drew had been playing and remembered the name of a boy at school who’d been bothering him before he got sick.
On difficult mornings, he could get Drew talking when I couldn’t.
Once, I stood outside the room listening as they argued about whether a motorcycle could outrun a race car.
“Depends on the track,” Dr. Harris said.
“That’s cheating. You can’t change the question.”
Publicidad
“Sounds like you need better questions.”
Drew burst out laughing.
Watching them together hurt in a way I couldn’t explain.
My son had found someone he admired, someone who made him forget he was sick for a few minutes.
Someone who reminded me of what he’d missed growing up without his father.
And it wasn’t because I hadn’t tried hard enough.
One afternoon, I returned from the cafeteria and found them whispering, their heads close together.
Drew immediately stopped talking.
