Malcolm's coo became a cry. It had been hours since we had locked ourselves out of the house but it made no difference to him or his needs. The boy wanted his parents but was incapable of the simple act of walking over to the door and unlocking the deadbolt. The life Malcolm led was one of constant need, one of dependence.
The debilitating accident last year 'scrambled his circuits' as his mother put it but while the rest of the family wrestled with the fact that my son would never walk, eat, speak or function on his own, she turned to the bottle for answers. I never understood it myself but I know everyone copes in their own ways. For me, it was distance. The love we had was long gone but after the firemen extracted me from the wreckage the blame was clear.
I never shied away from the fact that I was partially to blame for the accident but whens someone plows into your car at forty miles an hour, there isn't much you can do. The light was green. I drove. He didn't stop.
His crying changed to screams and another piece of me fell black and silent.