“You don’t have to.”
I went into my office and opened the small safe beneath my desk.
As I counted the cash, Natalie appeared in the doorway.
“You’re really giving him the money?”
“Yes.”
“We agreed to discuss major expenses.”
“He has never asked me for money before.”
“That doesn’t mean it won’t become a habit.”
I turned toward her.
“He’s my father.”
“And this is our house.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Because years earlier, Dad had sold the last parcel of land he inherited from his mother and used most of the money for the down payment on that very house.
Natalie knew that.
I didn’t argue.
I simply handed Dad the money.
His fingers trembled around the envelope.
“I’m sorry, son.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
Usually Dad hugged me before leaving.
That afternoon, he didn’t.
For the next three days, I couldn’t stop thinking about everything he had said.
