Chapter 16 - Tyler’s First Stand
Six weeks after shooting, Tyler stood between parallel bars.
Both knees braced.
Two therapists.
Harness.
Sweat covering face.
He shook.
Not fear.
Effort.
“Three seconds,” therapist said.
He lasted two.
Collapsed into harness.
“Again.”
I stood ten feet away.
Sarah cried openly.
Tyler glared.
“Mom.”
“I’m proud.”
“Stop crying.”
“No.”
Second attempt.
Four seconds.
Third.
Seven.
That night he told me:
“I thought I’d feel better.”
“You stood.”
“I used to dunk.”
There it was.
Progress can feel insulting when measured against old ability.
“You’re allowed to hate progress.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Most true things don’t.”
He laughed.
Then:
“I’ll testify.”
“You don’t have to decide now.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because Barnes keeps saying I reached.”
His criminal defense filings had previewed justification.
May you like
Tyler wanted his voice.
We arranged prep later.
