“Yeah, everything’s good. Hey, Dad, I just wanted to say thanks for everything. Thanks for teaching me how to shoot free throws. Thanks for teaching me how to be a man. It’s nice that we got to know each other as adults.” My dad knew I couldn’t tell him what was up. But he knew something was, and it scared him. Later, I found out that he sat in his truck for twenty minutes after our call, poleaxed by a feeling of dread. “Hey, Dad,” I said. “I’ve got to go to work.” He ended the call with, “I love you.” I told him I loved him, too, then hung up and jogged out to the bus. Jonny had been looking
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