was wrong.
He looked pale.
Not sick.
Afraid.
“Dad?”
He looked at the floor.
My father never looked away from hard things.
That frightened me more than anything.
Then he said,
“I’ve done something terrible to you.”
I put down the plate I was holding.
“What?”
He placed a shoebox on the counter.
It was old.
The tape had yellowed slightly.
My name was written on top.
I recognized the handwriting instantly.
Carl.
My knees almost gave out.
Dad said,
“Carl made me promise I wouldn’t give this to you
