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Gordie didn't understand. He had talent. He could get out of this town. He could go make a name for himself. And after a few years, the pain in his eyes would eventually fade. It wouldn't disappear, but it would fade. It would be almost a dream, a memory.
It was the pain, pain that wasn't there a year ago, that made me feel bad for him. Like, really bad. His father didn't hit him like mine did, and sometimes I wondered if that was worse. I've seen Gordie ramble on about loose women and making money, not making any real sense and his father just nod and say "Sure thing Gordon." It's those moments that truly scare me. Either his parents didn't care, or they were telling him he wasn't as good as his brother, because Denny played football and Gordie wrote stories.
His tears tore at my heart. As much as I tried to convince him otherwise…maybe his father did hate him. But I would never ask and he would never tell me. Gordie's cries were silent, not wet sounding like my own. There was deep pain in his, emotionally pain. Then I realized something. His cries weren't silent; they were deafening.