Ledbetter ain’t the crying type. I had reduced him to tears once or twice, but no more than that.
“What the fuck?” I said, unsteady on my feet.
“You’ve got to stop this, Wiley,” he said miserably. “You’re ruining my life! You’re throwing away everything we’ve worked for! You’ve got to get over this and move on—it’s been six fucking years! I lost him too, you know, and there isn’t a single day that goes by that I don’t think about him, but we’ve got to move on. And I’m here too, you know. Don’t you ever think about that? I’mhere. I’myour family. And I’m tired of living in the shadow of our dead son. And I’m tired of you and tired of your fucking nonsense. It’s been six years. Six fucking years! Enough is enough!”
“Oh, what do you know about it?”