“Reasons”

An NFL career dashed, my father never blinked; just moved on to plan B. But it ate at his soul a little bit, to watch her walk around the house all day, laughing on the phone, a scotch in her hand; talking to her girls about upcoming galas and executive trips, plotting their itinerary. He’d risen slowly from the ranks of the pro bono, state appointed lawyer; defending junkies and hookers and petty thieves and marijuana dealers. My father spent a lot of nights actually working…