“I know I don’t deserve forgiveness,” she whispered. “But maybe now that things are going so well for you, we could help each other.”
I stared at her.
“Help each other?”
“I thought you might help me, too. You’ve just bought your father a whole garage.”
There it was.
“I wanted my mother back,” I said. “Not someone I had to pay to stay.”
Her expression changed.
“He’s not your only parent, Emma.”
Dad straightened.
“Rachel. Enough.”
Several guests turned toward us.
Conversations stopped.
I took the microphone again.
“My mother once believed raising me would ruin her life.”
I looked at Dad.
“My father never did.”
Mom lowered her eyes.
“He gave up a garage. He sold things he loved. He worked until his hands cracked.”
My voice trembled.
“And every night, he still found a way to make me laugh.”
I held up the red lever.
“This invention started with him.”
Then I looked at Mom.
“You came back when you heard what I was worth.”
I turned toward Dad.
“He never needed me to be anything but his daughter.”
Nobody spoke.
Mom left shortly afterward.
I didn’t follow her.
For the first time, I didn’t want to.
After everyone had gone, Dad sat beside me.
“I should have told you she was coming,” I said. “You deserved to know.”
“I know why you wanted her here, Bug.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“For what?”
“That you heard those words. That you carried them alone.”
I reached for his hand.
“I wanted to make you proud.”
“Emma, I was proud when you learned to tie your shoes.”
I laughed through tears.
“And when you fixed that broken toaster.”
“I nearly electrocuted myself.”
“Still proud.”
He smiled.
Then his expression softened.
“You never owed me any of this.”
I looked toward the garage papers.
“But you gave up everything.”
“No, sweetheart.”
He squeezed my hand.
“I chose you.”
I finally told him about the research opportunity.
That I’d already accepted the offer.
And how terrified I’d been to tell him I was leaving.
Because it felt like abandoning him the way Mom had abandoned us.
He listened quietly.
