At the time, there had not been enough evidence to prove otherwise.
My son had been away then too.
His wife had told him the same basic story she had told him tonight: their son was dramatic, defiant, and prone to running outside when angry.
My son had accepted it.
“Dad,” he said quietly, “I told him he needed to stop making things harder for his mother.”
I didn’t rescue him from that sentence.
He needed to hear himself say it.
Then he asked to speak to his son.
I carried the phone inside and asked my grandson whether he wanted to talk to his father. He nodded, but when I handed him the phone, he didn’t say hello.
My son spoke first.
“I should have listened to you.”
My grandson’s eyes filled, but he didn’t cry.
“You always believed her.”
My son went quiet.
“Yes,” he said. “I did.”
