Greg barely spoke during the entire drive home.
For weeks afterward, he buried himself in work.
Months later, something changed inside him.
Not all at once.
Little by little.
At first, he simply stopped talking about football.
Then, he stopped going with me to Liam’s physical therapy appointments.
Soon after that, every setback became my fault.
“If you had noticed something sooner…”
“If you’d pushed the doctors harder…”
“If your family didn’t have all those medical problems…”
He never finished most of those sentences.
He didn’t have to.
The blame was always hanging there between us.
As Liam got older, Greg became an expert at disguising cruelty as humor.
Whenever neighbors talked about their sons making varsity teams or winning championships, Greg would laugh and say, “Guess I won’t be buying football gear after all.”
People chuckled awkwardly.
I forced a smile.
Liam quietly looked away.
Sometimes, late at night, after Liam had gone to bed, Greg would stare out the kitchen window.
