The skates were Bauer Vapor Hyperlites. Second pair. Because apparently the first pair Caleb bought weren't the right fit for Miles's "evolving stride" – his words, delivered to my mother over the phone with the casual authority of someone who'd appointed himself my brother's personal development coach.
My mother didn't question it. Why would she? A responsible, polished college athlete was investing time and money into her fatherless son's hockey career. That wasn't suspicious. That was a blessing. That was the kind of thing you thanked God for at dinner and posted about on f*******: with heart emojis and captions about village-raising.
I couldn't say a word.
Because the cruelty of what Caleb was doing was structurally identical to kindness. He showed up at every youth league practice.
