The morning after was the worst night of our lives.
Hector wouldn't come out of his room and wouldn't eat breakfast. He wouldn't talk to anyone either.
Rose was confused, standing outside his door. "Hector? Play with me?"
Silence.
She turned to me. "Dada, why is Hector sad?"
"He's processing some grown-up information, sweetheart. Give him time."
Katherine was devastated. She was in the kitchen, her coffee untouched and her eyes red from crying.
"We should have told him differently. Prepared him properly."
"How do you prepare a seven-year-old for that truth? There's no good way."
"I don't know, but not like this. He shouldn't have accidentally overheard conversations and pieced it together from school bullies."
We had an emergency session with Dr. Ana Bridges. It was a family therapy.
Hector, Katherine, and I were all in her office.
Hector sat silent, his arms crossed, and wouldn't look at us or make eye contact.
"Hector, can you tell me what you're feeling right now?"
