“With a car?”
“It’s a pretty good start.”
He glanced at Ray.
“Better than anything he got you, I’d bet.”
I looked toward the house.
“Wait here.”
I went inside.
The wooden box was still on the kitchen table.
When I carried it outside, Ray’s face changed.
“Jake.”
I ignored him.
My father looked at the box.
“What’s that?”
“My birthday present.”
He actually laughed.
“That’s what he gave you?”
Ray’s face went red.
I opened the lid.
“No.”
I lifted out the statements.
“This is.”
My father frowned.
I handed him the first one.
He read the deposit.
“Forty dollars?”
“Turn it over.”
He did.
“Boots can wait.”
I handed him another.
“Truck service next month.”
Then another.
“Brought lunch all week.”
My father’s smile disappeared.
“What is this?”
“My college account.”
“Okay.”
“Ray and Mom opened it.”
I found the statement I wanted.
“Danny needed new glasses. I’ll make it up next month.”
Then the next one.
“Made up the $40 I missed, plus this month: $80.”
I held them out.
“Those are Ray’s kids. Danny and Cara.”
My father said nothing.
“He pays child support. He helps Mom with our bills. And every month, he still puts something away for me.”
Ray finally spoke.
“Jake, that’s enough.”
“No.”
I turned to him.
“And you called this nothing this morning.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal.”
“You needed work boots.”
“My boots were fine.”
“One of them has duct tape on it.”
“They’re comfortable.”
Even Mom laughed at that, though she was crying.
I looked back at my father.
The new car gleamed behind him.
It probably cost more than everything Ray had deposited.
That was the point my father had expected me to understand.
Instead, I finally understood the opposite.
“You bought that car with money you had.”
I held up Ray’s statements.
“Ray built my future with money he needed.”
My father’s face hardened.
“You think this guy loves you more than your own father?”
I stared at him.
“You don’t know what position I play.”
