In the days leading up to my birthday, something felt off about Michael.
He said some version of that three more times that day each time I checked on him.
I let it go because the guests were arriving and the grill needed tending. I figured whatever it was, my son would tell me when he was ready.
I didn’t figure it would be in front of everyone.
***
When Michael picked up his glass and asked for everyone’s attention, the backyard went quiet.
He stood there with his glass raised. “I want to make a toast. Dad, there’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve been hiding for years and should’ve told you a long time ago.”
I frowned, the smile still half on my face.
“Dad, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Dad, it’s about the night when… Sarah passed away.”
I shook my head before Michael could finish. “No… don’t… don’t go there. You don’t have to do this right now.”
“No, Dad. What you know about that night,” Michael continued, “is not true. And I can’t hide this from you anymore.”
“Please, Michael… please don’t…”
He shook his head. “Dad, you need to hear this. I’m done watching you pretend you’re happy… pretend you’ve moved on from Sarah. This changes everything.”
Michael walked to the back door and opened it.
