The Satellite Son and the Cane Son: When Money Can’t Carry Grief

while she was drowning.

David had been the Cane. The quiet one. The one nobody asked about because asking would require help.

He rubbed his face with his hand, and I saw the scar on his forearm.

A crescent-shaped mark.

A bite.

My stomach turned.

“That from her?” I asked softly.

He nodded once.

“She didn’t mean it,” he said quickly, defensive even now. “She continue reading …