The door closed.
Now only the three of us remained.
Ethan sat on the couch with the tabletop game beside him.
Chris moved a chair closer.
I sat on Ethan’s other side.
“Captain,” I said, “what exactly did you tell Ray?”
“Nothing, Mom.”
Chris pointed toward the door.
“Nothing? Ray traveled all the way here carrying a dozen plastic football players and one goalpost that hasn’t stood straight since February.”
“They’re players, Dad.”
“Fine. Athletes.”
Ethan tried not to smile.
I waited.
He picked at a loose thread on his jersey.
Finally, I asked, “Why was it so important that they be part of today?”
He shrugged. “Because…”
“Ethan.”
He met my eyes.
Then his gaze shifted toward the phone still resting in my hand.
He said quietly, “They’re people from the hospital who still act normal around me.”
Chris blinked. “Weird?”
Ethan immediately looked sorry.
