Chapter 11 - DAD FINALLY SAW THE BANK STATEMENTS
Dad entered counseling two weeks later.
He came angry.
“I’m here because your mother won’t stop crying.”
The counselor nodded.
“That is still here.”
Dad hated her immediately.
We put the numbers on paper.
My transfers.
My condo closing statement.
Toyota loan history.
Chelsea’s BMW financing.
Home-equity balance.
Dad’s business expenses.
Nothing emotional.
He stared at the page showing $98,150 in support I had provided over seven years.
“That includes gifts.”
“Some.”
“And roof work.”
“Yes.”
“You offered.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you acting like we stole it?”
I took a breath.
“I’m not.”
Dad looked confused.
“Then what do you want?”
“For you to stop telling people the money went the other direction.”
He looked down.
“We helped you.”
“Yes.”
“A lot.”
“Yes.”
“Then why does everything have to become dollars?”
I almost laughed.
“Because you threatened to report a titled vehicle stolen.”
Dad’s face changed.
He was ashamed of that.
Finally.
“I was angry.”
“Why?”
“Because you were leaving.”
“That isn’t why you took my keys.”
He looked away.
The counselor waited.
Dad finally admitted he had already planned to keep my Toyota after selling his Subaru.
“I thought you’d agree.”
“Why?”
“You barely drive.”
“I commute three days a week.”
“You could use transit.”
Chelsea laughed in disbelief.
Dad snapped:
“You stay out of this.”
“No.”
Her voice hardened.
“I got a BMW while you were planning to take Iris’s Toyota.”
Dad’s shoulders fell.
“I was going to make it right later.”
I stared.
“How?”
“Help you replace it.”
“With what money?”
No answer.
That was Dad’s real pattern.
Solve today.
Trust tomorrow to supply money.
Business worked that way.
Home equity worked that way.
Chelsea’s BMW.
My Toyota.
My transfers.
Tomorrow would make everything balanced again.
It never did.
“Why did you tell relatives you supported me?”
Dad’s eyes filled.
“Because I’m your father.”
I waited.
“I didn’t want people thinking my daughter was paying my bills.”
There it was.
Pride.
Ordinary.
Expensive.
“So you let them think I was dependent.”
Dad wiped his eyes.
“I didn’t think of what that did to you.”
“I know.”
Chelsea asked:
“Did you think about what it did to me?”
Dad looked at her.
“What?”
“You made me think Iris was secretly favored.”
“Your mother handled that.”
Elaine stiffened.
The counselor interrupted.
“No outsourcing.”
Dad looked annoyed.
Good.
He thought.
“I knew.”
Chelsea’s face changed.
“You knew she told me about the fake condo money?”
“Not every amount.”
“But you knew.”
“Yes.”
Chelsea began crying.
I felt the urge to comfort her.
I waited.
She reached for my hand first.
I let her take it.
May you like
Dad watched us.
The daughter he protected from guilt and the daughter he protected himself from owing were finally comparing notes.
