“It means I found seventeen Fridays of my own.”
“Come with me,” Mrs. Patel cut in.
She drove us across town.
The person Lily wanted me to meet was a 19-year-old named Tara, halfway through her first week at an auto-repair shop.
“It means I found seventeen Fridays of my own.”
When Lily walked in, Tara grinned.
“Car day?”
Lily stopped. “Not yet.”
Tara looked at me, then back at Lily.
Her smile disappeared.
“No.”
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Lily shoved her hands into her pockets.
Tara stepped closer.
“Tell me you didn’t use your car money.”
Silence.
“Tell me you didn’t use your car money.”
Then Tara started crying.
She had been accepted into an apprenticeship that began at six every morning.
The bus didn’t run early enough from the temporary room where she had been staying. Missing shifts meant losing the job before her first paycheck.
She had been accepted into an apprenticeship that began at six every morning.
Lily had spent just over $1,100 on required boots, a used bicycle, and a short-term room close enough for Tara to get to work.
Tara had needed the most.
The rest of Lily’s summer money was split in smaller amounts across 16 other people, covering bus passes, work pants, phone service, and meals.
Seventeen people altogether.
Tara had needed the most.
Tara wiped her face.
“I’ll pay you back.”
Lily shook her head.
“Don’t.”
“Lily…”
“Get somebody else to Friday,” my daughter said.
I had to turn away.
On the drive home, I finally asked the question that had been bothering me most.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Get somebody else to Friday.”
Lily stared out the window.
“Because you would’ve helped.”
“Of course I would’ve.”
“I know, Mom.” She looked at me. “That’s why I couldn’t tell you. I needed to know if I could do it myself.”
“Why?”
Her eyes dropped.
“Because Dad couldn’t anymore.”
“That’s why I couldn’t tell you. I needed to know if I could do it myself.”
For several seconds, I couldn’t say a word.
After a moment, she added, “I just wanted to know if I could do one thing he’d recognize.”
I reached across the console, then stopped myself.
She’d made her choice. I wasn’t going to punish her for it, but I wasn’t going to erase the cost of it either.
“I just wanted to know if I could do one thing he’d recognize.”
“What you did matters,” I told her. “But you don’t secretly give away your hard-earned money and tell me afterward.”
Lily nodded.
“Your father helped people too quietly sometimes. You apparently inherited that part as well, sweetheart.”
A tiny smile appeared.
“But you don’t secretly give away your hard-earned money and tell me afterward.”
“My three thousand stays saved,” I continued. “When you rebuild your part, we’ll look for a car again.”
“Okay.”
“And next time you’re buying somebody work boots, you tell me first.”
That got a laugh.
That evening, Lily sat at the kitchen table scrolling through used cars again.
“And next time you’re buying somebody work boots, you tell me first.”
Michael’s old HOME keychain lay beside her phone.
Still empty.
I glanced over.
“Starting over?”
“Yep.”
“Regret it?”
Lily took a beat before answering.
“I regret that cars cost $4,000!”
I laughed.
Then she looked at the photographs she’d taken of Mrs. Patel’s card.
“I regret that cars cost $4,000!”
Michael’s 16 on the front.
Her 17 on the back.
She tapped the screen once.
“I don’t regret seventeen.”
I slid Michael’s empty keychain a little closer to her.
Lily picked it up, turned the metal tag over in her fingers, then went back to searching for cars.
The ring stayed empty.
For now.
“I don’t regret seventeen.”
