Chapter 8 - What Was Still His
Dad's garage sat behind the house, small enough that you had to squeeze past the workbench when a car was inside.
I'd learned more in that building than in any classroom.
Now orange price stickers covered the shelves.
"You can't sell all this," I said.
Dad looked up from a socket set.
"Watch me."
"You love working out here."
"I loved playing shortstop too. Things change."
I picked up the old trouble light we'd used under my first car.
The wire cage was bent on one side.
"Because of Karen?"
He set down the sockets.
"Because I'm seventy-four. Because my knee hurts. Because I don't want to crawl under another truck just to prove I'm still useful."
The sentence stopped me.
"I didn't mean—"
"I know what you meant. But you don't get to love me so hard this week that I lose the right to make decisions."
I put the light back.
"What do you want to keep?"
His face softened a little.
"Hand tools. Bench. Maybe the drill press."
We spent the morning sorting.
Selling the heavy equipment would give him room, some money, and fewer reasons to ignore his own limits.
Leaving town was a different decision.
For the first time, I listened without trying to bundle them together.
The buyer arrived just before lunch, a young mechanic named Luis who'd worked beside Dad before he retired.
He checked the compressor and counted out the agreed price.
"You sure, Jack?"
"Ask me again and I'll raise it."
Luis grinned, then noticed me watching.
"Your dad taught me how to tell a customer the truth when it costs you money."
Dad waved him off.
"Taught you to stop dropping my sockets too. Didn't take."
They loaded the equipment together while I steadied the ramp.
When the truck pulled away, Dad stood in the new patch of empty floor.
"Room for a chair," he said.
Under the bench, we found a wooden box I'd made in shop class.
Inside were birthday cards, a cracked Little League trophy, and the cheap watch I'd given him with my first paycheck.
"That thing quit years ago," I said.
"I know what time it is."
I laughed, then couldn't quite finish.
My phone buzzed.
Megan had sent a screenshot from Elaine's social media page.
Some people use an elderly parent to justify humiliating a devoted wife. Praying our daughter finds the strength to stop being manipulated.
Underneath, a cousin asked if Jack was becoming confused.
Elaine had answered with a sad face and the words, It's been difficult.
Dad held out his hand.
"Let me see."
I hesitated.
"It's about me, Rick."
He read it once.
May you like
Then he took off his glasses.
"Give me Karen's number. I'm done having people speak for me."
