My mother asked to see Ethan.
He said no.
Then yes months later.
Supervised by me.
She brought no gifts.
Smart.
She said:
“I’m sorry I told you boys get hurt.”
Ethan stared.
“You said it like it didn’t matter.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was protecting Tyler.”
“Why?”
Linda cried.
“Because he was my son.”
Ethan looked at me.
Then back.
“My dad protected me.”
Silence.
Linda nodded.
“Yes.”
No competition.
Just truth.
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