He didn't say anything. Then: "Dad. You weren't nice to him in the end."

His voice quivered, as if he'd suffered an irreparable loss, and in that moment, I glimpsed Thomas's former self, the boy who wept when his hamster died. Together we held a proper funeral in the backyard. All at once, I felt I'd made a terrible mistake, not just how I'd handled the divorce, but everything, the way I'd chosen to live, make a living, raise Thomas, as if at every time, I'd opted to take the wrong direction, though I couldn't say what was the right direction.

Thomas shook his head. "Forget it."

He left. Music blared from his room, creating a sonic wall.