I’m Sorry

EZEKIEL

The accusation of favoritism—it stung.

Vivienne and I were standing side by side and I could tell from her expression that she was just as shaken as I was by what our son had said.

After a moment, we finally decided to approach Vince. We started walking slowly toward him, who had wandered down the shore. He was sitting on a huge rock, throwing small pebbles into the sea one by one.

He didn’t look back as we approached, but I could tell he knew we were coming.

I glanced at Vivienne. We both knew this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation, but we had to make things right.

When we got closer, I noticed the slump in Vince’s shoulders, the way he was staring out at the water. He looked frustrated, maybe even a little sad. That hurt. It hurt a lot to see my son like that, especially knowing that we were the cause of it.

Vivienne was the first to speak. Her voice was soft but steady as she said, “Vince, can we talk for a minute?”

He didn’t look at us, but he stopped throwing the