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A new mower.
A replacement roof for the garden shed.
But he simply shook his head and glanced down to his feet as he said, “You deserve it.” And then his glistening blue eyes met mine. “You’ve helped so much with Sara. You’ve filled a role I couldn’t, ever since . . .” He trailed off, and his throat bobbed as he glanced away.
We rarely talked about Mom.
“Anyway,” he wiped at his nose and turned back to me, “you help out, and you never complain. Not even when I have to spend money on Sara for soccer. And you never ask for a thing.”
My stomach clenched. “Dad . . .”
“No, really. I only wish I could’ve gotten you something nicer.”
“Stop,” I said, feeling the weight of his words in my chest, heavy on my heart. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s not too . . .” He squinted as his eyes trailed over it. “Ugly?”
I stepped out of the car and closed the door behind me, then fell into his arms, embracing him in the biggest, tightest hug I could manage. Because even though I helped with Sara and dinner and housework, among other things. And even though I sometimes wished I didn’t have that responsibility like other kids at school, it was the least I could do. Dad worked harder than anyone I knew to give us the life we have. He got us into the Lakeview scholarship program, and for years, he’s been both a mother and father to the best of his ability, determined we wouldn’t miss out. And maybe we didn’t live in the lap of luxury, but it was enough.
When I pulled away, I gave a little whoop of joy because even though the car was admittedly lacking in the aesthetics department, it was transportation—something I never thought I’d have until I was off to college and working. And having a car now meant no more rides with Mrs. Geiger after tutor sessions. No more walking the five blocks to the grocery store and back in the heat. Or hitching a ride to Sara’s practices. It meant independence.
And it was the sweetest thing Dad could do for me. Maybe he couldn’t afford to pay my way at Lakeview this year, but he could do this, and for that, I was grateful.
“I have a car!” I threw my hands into the air, and when Sara appeared beside me, I scooped her up in a bear hug.
“Where you wanna go first?” I asked, jingling my keys.
I pulled up to Scarlett’s house and parked in the driveway. It was after seven o’clock, and though we never went to Lakeview sporting events, we did occasionally hang at Mary’s Diner on the weekends. So when I called her and said I was picking her up this time, she’d been floored.
The car idled, the engine rumbling with the occasional pop from the muffler as I parked in the driveway. The curtain to her neighbor’s house fluttered, and I tried to ignore the face peering out of the window, checking at the source of the noise. I knew just how much my car was out of place in her neighborhood, but I refused to be ashamed.
The subtle scent of exhaust wafted through my open window as I waited for Scarlett to appear. Drumming my fingers over the steering wheel, I ignored the Porsche that drove by, and Scarlett’s parents’ hulking Range Rover parked next to me in the driveway.
She hurried out her door and called over her shoulder, “I can’t believe your dad got you—” The words died on her lips as she spun around and her gaze settled on the hunk of metal in her driveway.
“I know,” I said with a smile. “It’s so beautiful, you’re speechless.”
Scarlett’s saucer-sized eyes met mine, and I knew what she saw when she looked at it. Just like I also knew she was too kind to say it.
“Where did he get it?” she asked hesitantly.
I shrugged. “Some guy at work sold it to him.”
Scarlett rounded the front to the passenger side and opened her door, which groaned in protest, then sunk inside. Her gaze shifted over the stained beige upholstery, the window with the Duct Tape, and the dash before she turned to me. “It has a nice radio,” she said brightly, and I laughed.
“What? I’m serious.” She frowned.
“That was my dad’s selling point, too. It’s a little rough,” I admitted, using his choice of words, even though they were severely insufficient. “But with a little TLC, it won’t be so bad. I already priced some seat covers and I can eventually replace the taillight and window.”
Scarlett nodded like she whole-heartily agreed with me, which is why I loved her. “Still, it’s a car, right?” she said.
“Right. It has wheels, it runs, and it’s mine.”
“Pretty cool, huh?”
I nodded. “Yeah, pretty cool.”
“Hey!” she said as she buckled up and I pulled out of her driveway. “This means we’ll be able to see each other next year more often since we won’t be going to the same school.”
