As Aidan referenced the mysterious problems my son had, blood shot from my toes to my head and my palms got sweaty and hot. Since I had no idea what he was talking about, his comments didn’t seem kind.
“Huh?” I responded, assuming he’ll cop to a mea culpa and realize he was thinking of another kid.
He didn’t. Instead, he continued on.
“When our boys were friends, your son…
