« Just come, sweetheart. »
I quickly got dressed, grabbed my keys, and drove to Amanda’s house.
Her car was sitting in the driveway, completely untouched. I felt ridiculous for briefly wondering whether Dad had painted it.
Amanda opened the door before I knocked.
« What are you doing here? » she demanded.
« Dad asked me to come. »
« Of course he did. »
She stepped aside reluctantly.
Dad was standing beside the dining table. In front of him sat an old wooden jewelry box, a faded photograph, and several printed pages.
The box was covered in childish drawings. Flowers decorated the lid, and uneven letters spelled out « Happy Birthday, Daddy. »
Amanda looked furious.
« Dad, I told you to put that away. »
« Not until we talk. »
I approached the table.
« What’s going on? »
Dad picked up the photograph and handed it to me.
A little girl stood beside him, holding the decorated box proudly.
« That’s Amanda, » he said. « On my birthday, when she was eight. »
I glanced at my sister.
« What does this have to do with my car? »
« More than you think. »
Amanda folded her arms.
« Seriously, Dad? You’re bringing up something from 26 years ago? »
Dad ignored her.
« Your sister wanted to surprise me with a birthday present. She found this jewelry box in our bedroom and decided it needed decorating. »
« That’s sweet, » I said cautiously.
« It would have been, except the box belonged to your mother. Her own mother had given it to her. »
I looked closer at the faded flowers.
« These were permanent markers? »
Dad nodded.
« Your mother cried when she saw it. »
Amanda shifted uncomfortably.
« I was eight. I didn’t know. »
« Exactly, » Dad replied. « You didn’t know. Just like Lily didn’t know yesterday. »
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Amanda shrugged.
« And Mom forgave me. That’s what parents do. »
« She did forgive you, » Dad said. « But you’re forgetting something. »
He opened the box.
Inside were a few old photographs, a delicate chain, and a folded piece of paper yellowed with age.
Dad carefully unfolded the note.
« I found this inside after your mother passed away. She kept it all those years. »
Amanda’s expression changed.
« What note? »
Dad handed it to her.
She read silently.
I watched her fingers tighten around the paper.
« What does it say? » I asked.
Amanda didn’t answer, so Dad recited the words from memory.
« I know you wanted to make something beautiful. Next time, ask first. Love means taking care of what matters to someone else. »
