Unfortunately, grief changed him.
He stopped playing soccer.
He rarely laughed.
He spent hours alone in his room.
And sometimes, late at night, I heard the back door open and close.
I’d lie awake wondering where he was going.
I wanted to ask.
But I was afraid of the answer.
There had also been a few minor incidents that made me worry.
When Logan was fourteen, he and some friends organized an ill-advised bicycle race down a neighborhood hill.
A police officer stopped them and gave them a stern warning.
The boys were embarrassed, but nobody was seriously hurt.
A year later, Logan skipped an afternoon class to attend his best friend Marcus’s soccer tournament.
Marcus’s father had left years before, and his mother worked nights.
Logan didn’t want his friend looking into the stands and seeing nobody cheering for him.
The school contacted the authorities when they couldn’t locate him.
