Friday night found the men and dogs in the living room, watching another football game. Ryan had no idea football was on the tube so frequently. They would also be watching a game the next day, too. Or, he supposed, several games, as there would be multiple broadcasts on Saturday. André’s sons would be joining them. Connor had called that afternoon and said he and Todd wanted to see their dad. So the plan to spend the afternoon with football was hatched. He hoped he could develop more of an interest in the sport than just ogling the beautiful butts in tight pants.
That night’s snack was ice cream: hand packed ice cream from the Wellington Street Dairy. Ryan had picked up a quart of cookie dough earlier while running an errand for the occupational therapist.
He and André sat next to eac
