Ethan’s expression
softened.
And for the first time, I began to understand what we’d been missing.
A stadium employee offered us a quiet family room where Ethan could rest.
We gratefully accepted.
Ray placed the tabletop football game on a small table.
One plastic player immediately fell over.
“Cheap equipment,” Ray muttered.
“Terrible coaching,” Ethan replied.
Everyone laughed.
Then Ray gently encouraged the others to leave.
“Come on, folks. Captain’s got a family meeting.”
Soon, only three people remained.
Chris.
Ethan.
And me.
I sat beside my son.
“Sweetheart, why was it so important to have your hospital friends here?”
Ethan looked down.
“Because they still act normal around me.”
Chris frowned.
“What do you mean? Don’t we act normal?”
Ethan hesitated.
Then he pointed toward my phone.
“Dad keeps checking if I’m tired every few minutes. He doesn’t even watch football anymore.”
Chris lowered his eyes.
