Chapter 7
Mason returned the calculator and controller in a paper bag.
He brought them to the park, where Dad and Aaron had arranged another visit.
Lily ran toward the swings. Mason waited beside me.
“I checked my room,” he said.
“Is that everything?”
“I think so.”
I looked inside.
The calculator had my initials written on the back. Claire once told me I must have left it at school, and Dad bought a replacement after I saved half the cost.
“You watched me save for another one,” I said.
Mason stared at the ground.
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you give it back?”
“I didn’t want to get in trouble.”
“So I got in trouble.”
He nodded.
I wanted him to say something that made the last three years easier to understand.
He said, “Mom always told me you had more.”
“Did you think that?”
“At first.”
“And later?”
He looked toward Lily.
“Later, I liked getting things.”
The honesty was ugly, but it was real.
I sat on the bench.
“You could have stopped.”
“I know.”
He sat at the other end, leaving space.
“Dad told me I can’t blame Mom for everything.”
“Aaron?”
“Yeah. He said she’s the adult, but I’m old enough to know taking your stuff was wrong.”
I looked at the bag again.
“What happened to Mom’s birthday card?”
Mason’s face changed.
The card was one she wrote for my seventh birthday before she died. I kept it beneath the wooden box. After Claire moved the box, the card disappeared.
“I don’t know,” he said.
I believed him because he looked frightened of not having an answer.
“Can you ask Lily?”
“I will.”
We joined Lily at the swings. Mason pushed her while I sat on the next one.
For a while, we were just children at a park.
At home, Dad was reading papers from the bank.
He put them away when I entered.
“You don’t have to hide things,” I said.
“I’m not hiding. I don’t want your evening to become another meeting about money.”
“Will I still go to college?”
“Yes.”
“What if the money doesn’t come back?”
“We have a plan. Claire is being asked to account for the withdrawals. I’ve also started replacing what’s missing.”
“You shouldn’t have to replace everything.”
“That’s for the adults to sort out.”
He sounded calm enough that I believed him.
The school counselor called him the next day. Claire had contacted the office asking whether she could collect me for a family appointment.
Dad had already changed the approved pickup list.
The office refused.
When he told me, my stomach tightened.
“Why did she want me?”
“She said she wanted us to discuss things together.”
“Without you?”
“Yes.”
I looked at the door.
Dad pulled his chair closer.
“You stayed at school. They followed the plan. She cannot collect you without my permission.”
“What if she waits outside?”
“You go back into the office and tell them. You can also call me or June.”
We practiced once.
It made me feel childish until Dad said electricians practiced emergency steps too.
“You don’t invent a plan while something is happening,” he said. “You make one beforehand.”
That evening, Lily called from Dana’s house.
“I found the card,” she said.
I sat straight up.
“Where?”
“In a box Mom brought here. It was with old papers.”
“Can you keep it safe?”
“Aunt Dana has it.”
Lily paused.
“Mom said she was going to give it back. She said you never asked.”
“I did ask.”
“I know.”
Dana took the phone.
“I’ll bring it to your dad tomorrow,” she said.
“Thank you.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“Ethan, I’m sorry I didn’t notice more.”
“You weren’t at our house much.”
“No. But I heard how Claire spoke sometimes, and I should have asked questions.”
I did not know what to do with adults apologizing.
I only knew I no longer had to apologize first.
Dana brought the card in a clear sleeve.
Dad handed it to me at the kitchen table.
Happy seventh birthday, my wonderful boy.
Mom had drawn a tiny crooked star beside her name.
I ran my finger over it.
For years, I thought I had lost something precious because I was careless.
Now it was back.
I took the card upstairs and placed it beside the photograph.
Then I called Mason.
“Lily found it.”
“Good.”
“You helped?”
“I asked Dana where Mom’s boxes were.”
“Thanks.”
He waited.
I could hear him breathing.
“I’m still mad about the calculator,” I said.
“I know.”
“But thanks for helping.”
Afterward, I sat on my bed and watched the light move across Mom’s picture.
May you like
I could be angry with Mason and grateful to him on the same day.
Nobody had ever told me that was allowed.
