But that morning, I caught him standing at the kitchen window with his coffee going cold in his hand, staring at nothing.
« You okay, Mike? » I asked.
« Yeah, Dad, » Michael said, turning with a smile that didn’t quite reach. « Yeah, I’m good. »
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. »
