She was crying hard now.
“And then Bobby’s check came that first November. Thirteen thousand dollars. And I was sitting at your kitchen table going through your mail, and I held it in my hand, and I thought, Daddy’s not going to miss it. Teresa said she’d help with the bill. Daddy’s still got the land.”
She shook her head.
“And I thought I’d pay it back. I swear to God I was going to pay it back.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out a little spiral notebook. The kind you get at the dollar store, with a blue cardboard cover. She held it out to Daddy with both hands, like an offering.
“I wrote down every one,” she said. “Every check. Every date. I’ve got it all written down. I was going to pay back every dime when Roger got back on his feet.”
Daddy took the notebook. He opened it and turned the pages slowly.
From across the room, I could see her round handwriting. The same handwriting that used to write my name on my lunch sack in the third grade.
“Does Roger know?” Daddy asked.
Sherry shook her head.
“He thinks the hospital forgave part of it. He thinks we got on a payment plan. He’s not well enough to know. He’s still not well enough.”
“You told me the rent was paying my bill,” Daddy said quietly.
“I know.”
“And you told your sister I was broke.”
“I know.” She could barely get the words out. “I know, Daddy. I knew if I told Teresa the rent was still coming in, she’d ask where it went. And I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t tell anybody. I just kept thinking, next month I’ll figure something out. And then it was a year. And then it was three.”
Daddy closed the notebook. He sat with it in his lap a long time, his big hands resting on top of it.
“Sherry,” he said. “Look at me.”
She looked up at him.
“Why didn’t you just ask me?”
She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
“I’ve got 200 acres of ground,” Daddy said. “I’ve got a renter who’s paid on time every year for twenty-two years. Your husband was laying in a hospital with his chest cut open. You think I’d have said no?”
His voice rose for the first time.
“You think there’s anything on God’s green earth I wouldn’t have given to keep Roger alive?”
Sherry put her face in her hands and sobbed.
“I’d have given it to you,” Daddy said, softer now. “I’d have signed it over at the kitchen table. All you had to do was ask me like I was still somebody.”
That one landed on both of us.
I felt it go right through me where I stood by the door. Because I hadn’t asked him either. Not once in three years. I’d paid his bill, and I’d never once sat down beside him and said, “Daddy, let’s look at your money.”
I’d treated him like a man who couldn’t be bothered. The same as Sherry had.
Lila Hart is a dedicated Digital Archivist and Research Specialist with a keen eye for preserving and curating meaningful content. At TheArchivists, she specializes in organizing and managing digital archives, ensuring that valuable stories and historical moments are accessible for generations to come.
Lila earned her degree in History and Archival Studies from the University of Edinburgh, where she cultivated her passion for documenting the past and preserving cultural heritage. Her expertise lies in combining traditional archival techniques with modern digital tools, allowing her to create comprehensive and engaging collections that resonate with audiences worldwide.
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