Chapter 1: The Price of Seeing My Father
“Nó nhớ bố à? Tốt. Tao sẽ vắt sạch tiền con ngu ấy.””
Wade watched his older sister carry two heavy grocery bags into their father's house. His eyes moved from the bags to the car repair invoice sitting beside his coffee cup.
He smiled.
Not because he was happy to see her.
Because he had just found another way to make money.
Erin hadn't even taken off her work coat when she placed the groceries on the kitchen counter. Her shoulders were tired, her hair was slightly damp from the November rain, and a red mark crossed her wrist where one of the shopping bags had been digging into her skin.
She glanced toward the living room.
"Is Dad awake?"" she asked.
Wade pulled one grocery bag toward himself.
"He's resting.""
Dawn, Wade's wife, immediately began unpacking the second bag. She took out milk, eggs, bread, fresh vegetables, and two containers of soup.
"Oh, you got the chicken soup he likes," Dawn said casually.
"Good. We're almost out.""
Erin smiled faintly.
"I remembered.""
She had remembered everything.
Her father liked the soup with extra carrots. He preferred whole milk. He couldn't tolerate too much salt anymore. And he always complained when the bread was too hard.
Every Sunday, Erin made sure the refrigerator was stocked.
Every Sunday, she brought something.
And every Sunday, she hoped to spend a little time with the man who had raised her.
Wade slid a piece of paper across the kitchen table.
It stopped directly in front of Erin.
"Before you go see Dad, take care of this.""
Erin looked down.
It was a car repair invoice.
The total was $1,846.
She looked at the paper, then at her brother.
"What is this?""
"My car repair bill.""
"I can read that, Wade.""
"Then you know what I'm asking.""
Wade pressed his palm against the invoice, keeping it flat on the table.
"Pay it first.""
Erin blinked.
"Why would I pay for your car?""
Wade leaned back in his chair.
"Because I've been taking care of Dad.""
Dawn continued putting groceries away, pretending not to listen.
Erin looked toward the living room again.
"Can I see him?""
"Not until we settle this.""
For a moment, Erin didn't move.
The refrigerator hummed behind Dawn. Rain tapped against the kitchen window. Somewhere in the living room, the television played an old game show.
Then Erin slowly looked back at the invoice.
"Just to see Dad?""
Wade lifted his chin.
"You're not the one who stays here every day. You're not the one who handles his appointments. You're not the one who makes sure he's comfortable.""
Erin stared at him.
"You mean the money I send every month?""
"That's different.""
"How is it different?""
"That's your contribution to Dad's care. This is my compensation for everything I do.""
Erin let out a quiet breath.
She had transferred money to Wade three days earlier.
Seven hundred and fifty dollars.
Before that, she had paid for her father's prescription medication, his new hearing aid batteries, and the electricity bill.
She hadn't complained.
Not once.
She had a full-time job, a mortgage, and bills of her own. But her father had spent thirty-five years making sure she never went without, and she had always believed looking after him was something she should do willingly.
She hadn't expected a reward.
She hadn't expected to be charged admission.
"I already transferred money," Erin said.
Wade shrugged.
"That doesn't cover everything.""
Dawn put the milk in the refrigerator.
"Just leave the groceries here, Erin.""
Her voice was calm, almost cheerful.
"At least we won't have to go shopping tomorrow.""
Erin watched her take out the last container of soup.
There was something humiliating about it.
Her food was welcome.
Her money was expected.
But her presence seemed to be a problem.
Wade glanced toward the living room.
"Besides, Dad doesn't want to see you.""
The words landed harder than Erin expected.
She looked at him.
"What?""
"You heard me.""
"Why?""
"He gets upset when you come.""
"Since when?""
Wade rubbed his forehead as if the conversation exhausted him.
"Erin, I don't want to argue. Dad has been through enough. He doesn't need people showing up whenever they feel guilty.""
Her mouth opened, then closed.
She looked toward the living room.
The last time she had visited, her father had held her hand for almost twenty minutes. He had asked about her job, complained about the weather, and reminded her to drive carefully.
He had even walked her to the front door.
He had seemed perfectly happy to see her.
"Did he actually say he didn't want me here?"" she asked.
Wade's expression hardened.
"Yes.""
"Then ask him.""
"Don't start.""
"Ask him, Wade.""
He gave a short, irritated laugh.
"You're making this difficult for no reason.""
Erin removed her hands from the counter.
"Then let's make it simple.""
She turned toward the living room.
"Why don't we ask Dad himself?""
Wade's chair scraped against the floor.
"Erin—"
But she was already walking.
"You're not going in there," he said.
She stopped.
Slowly, she turned around.
"Are you seriously stopping me from seeing my own father?""
"Nobody is stopping you. I'm telling you what he wants.""
"Then let him tell me.""
For a second, Wade looked genuinely angry.
Then a voice came from behind them.
"Erin?""
Everyone turned.
Frank stood in the doorway between the living room and the hallway.
He wore a gray cardigan over his old blue shirt. One hand rested against the doorframe, and his reading glasses sat low on his nose.
He looked confused.
Then his face changed.
"Erin?""
His daughter stared at him.
"Dad.""
Frank took two small steps forward.
"What are you doing here?""
Erin almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because she suddenly understood how badly something had gone wrong.
"I came to see you.""
Frank frowned.
"But Wade said you weren't coming anymore.""
Silence.
The television continued playing in the next room.
Erin felt her throat tighten.
"What?""
Frank looked from her to his son.
"He said you were too busy. That you didn't want to keep coming every Sunday.""
Erin shook her head.
"No, Dad.""
Frank's eyebrows pulled together.
"He told me you had your own life now. That I shouldn't expect you to keep making the drive.""
"I've been here every Sunday.""
Frank stared at her.
"Every Sunday?""
"Every single one.""
His face slowly crumpled.
"Then why didn't I see you?""
Erin's eyes filled.
She looked at Wade.
He had gone very still.
"Dad," she whispered, "I've been coming. I bring groceries. I leave the money. I ask about you every time.""
Frank looked genuinely devastated.
"I thought you had forgotten about me.""
Erin shook her head harder.
"Never.""
Wade immediately stepped forward.
"Dad, don't listen to her. She's twisting things.""
But Frank didn't look at him.
He walked past his son, reached the dining table, and pulled out the chair beside his own.
The wooden legs scraped across the floor.
Then he extended his hand toward Erin.
"Come sit with me, sweetheart.""
Erin walked over.
She sat beside him.
Frank placed his hand over hers, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles the way he used to when she was little.
Wade stood behind them.
For the first time that afternoon, he wasn't deciding who could enter the room.
Frank's eyes moved to the car repair invoice still lying on the table.
Then he looked at his daughter.
"Erin, how much money have you given him?""
Erin lifted her head.
She drew a breath.
May you like
Across the kitchen, Dawn's hand stopped halfway into a grocery bag.
And Wade's smile disappeared.
