My eyes filled with tears.
He reached over and squeezed my hand.
“You know what Coach Mara told me?”
I frowned.
“Who’s Coach Mara?”
“The adaptive basketball coach.”
I had forgotten that Liam had started volunteering with the community sports program.
“He said people spend too much time thinking about the things they can’t do.”
“And?”
Liam smiled.
“And they miss everything they can.”
I laughed through my tears.
“That’s pretty wise.”
“I know.”
He grinned.
That was Liam.
He could find light almost anywhere.
Greg rarely noticed it.
As high school went on, Liam began collecting accomplishments that should have made any parent proud.
Academic awards.
Volunteer recognition.
Scholarships.
Certificates.
Teachers constantly praised his determination.
One afternoon, our mailbox was overflowing with college letters.
“Liam!”
I spread them across the dining room table.
He rolled into the room, his eyes widening.
“Seriously?”
I nodded.
“They just keep coming.”
He picked up one of the envelopes.
“Wow.”
A few minutes later, Greg came home from work.
He glanced at the envelopes.
“What’s all this?”
“College offers,” I said proudly.
Liam had barely started reading the first letter when Greg shrugged.
“Good.”
Then he walked upstairs.
That was it.
No congratulations.
No hug.
No expression of pride.
Just one word.
I watched Liam carefully.
He smiled anyway.
“I guess that’s something.”
My heart broke.
Later that evening, I confronted Greg.
“Could you have acted any less interested?”
He loosened his tie.
“What are you talking about?”
“Our son has schools fighting over him.”
“So?”
I stared at him.
“What do you mean, ‘so’?”
“He’s worked incredibly hard.”
Greg sighed.
“Cyra, I said good.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“It should be.”
I couldn’t stop myself.
“Would it have been enough if he’d scored the winning touchdown instead?”
Greg’s face tightened.
“This again?”
“No.”
I folded my arms.
“This has always been about you.”
He pointed toward the living room.
“I didn’t ask for this life.”
I froze.
Neither of us spoke.
Then Greg quietly added:
“I had dreams.”
“So did I.”
He looked away.
“I know.”
But there was no apology.
No regret.
Only silence.
What neither of us knew was that Liam had heard us.
At least, I thought he hadn’t.
Looking back now, I realize how much our son had noticed.
Far more than either of us understood.
Despite everything, Liam graduated at the top of his class.
