I argued.
He argued harder.
Thea joined him.
For once, they were on the same side.
I finally gave in.
The money is still there.
Two hundred and eighty-eight thousand dollars, give or take a little interest.
We haven’t decided what to do with it.
Maybe care.
Maybe charity.
Maybe something for the grandchildren.
Maybe nothing.
For now, it is simply there.
And I have started using some of it to live.
That has been harder than I expected.
Buying groceries without calculating every item.
Turning the heat on when I’m cold.
Replacing a shirt because the collar is worn instead of because it has a hole.
Small things.
Embarrassingly small things.
But they feel like lessons.
Eleven weeks after Father’s Day, Emmett came over.
He sat at my kitchen table.
He didn’t bring his laptop.
He didn’t talk about work.
He didn’t talk about the company.
He looked at me and said:
“I asked you every week.”
“I know.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
I had no answer.
I still don’t.
He looked down.
“I thought I was taking care of you.”
“You were.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You were calling.”
“That’s not enough.”
“It was more than you think.”
