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“Let Liam come inside,” Dad urges.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Sherie says.
I walk in slowly.
“Sorry.” She winces, looking at me. “Can I get you some ice for your injuries?”
“I’m good,” I assure her. “But if you have some ibuprofen, I’d be grateful.”
“Coming right up,” Sherie replies.
She walks over to a medicine cabinet and then fills me a glass of water from the sink.
“Have a seat,” Dad says, eyeing the table covered in food.
Sherie passes me two pills and the water, and I swallow them down.
I take a seat at the table. The boys fight over who will sit next to me. So I stand and tell them I’ll sit in the middle between them.
“Nice place,” I say to Dad. The house isn’t big, but it’s been renovated with a sleek white kitchen and dark hardwood floors.
“Thanks,” he says with a small smile. “I went back to trade school and learned how to install HVAC systems after I left Boston. I have my own little business now.”
“That’s great,” I say. He had always been struggling with work, and it was something my parents had always fought about.
There’s a huge dish of mac and cheese, a brisket, mashed potatoes, and fried chicken.
“All this food looks really good,” I say to Sherie.
“She’s been cooking since last night,” Dad jokes.
“Actually, your dad made the mac and cheese. The boys love when he makes it for them,” Sherie shares with a warm smile as she watches my father.
I didn’t get any of this growing up. My father was tuned out. He didn’t make us food. He barely showed up to a game.
I want to be bitter, but maybe there is more to the story I don’t know.
Everybody digs in to the food. I’m starving after spending most of the night in the hospital.
“Everything is delicious,” I say to my dad and Sherie.
“I want to be a hockey player when I grow up,” David declares, looking up at me.
“It takes a lot of hard work,” I disclose to David.
“Liam worked very hard to be the best,” Dad says.
“I wouldn’t say I’m the best, but it did take a lot of hard work and dedication,” I tell the little guy.
“What does that mean?” David asks, and his face twists the same way Crew’s face twists when I’ve said something he doesn’t understand.
“It just means I worked hard all the time. I didn’t quit,” I explain.
After lunch, the boys want to show me their bedrooms. They also want me to play catch with them outside.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can take the stairs,” I say to them.
“Did you get hurt playing hockey?” Levi asks.
