I asked, “At the stadium?”
He nodded.
“Hayes’ final home game.”
I looked at the hospital bills on my kitchen counter that night and decided I would figure it out.
I cut everything I could and skipped lunches at work. Eventually, I sold a bracelet my mother had given me years earlier.
That hurt.
But not as much as watching Caleb learn how to transfer himself from a wheelchair into bed.
When two accessible seats near the field became available, I bought them before I could talk myself out of it.
The charge left my bank account looking frighteningly empty.
I didn’t care.
I told myself I hadn’t paid all that money for a good view. I’d paid for one afternoon when Caleb wouldn’t have to think first about what he couldn’t do.
For weeks, Caleb counted down the days.
On the morning of the game, he wore the Hayes jersey.
