She had been paralyzed after an accident when she was little.
“David…”
“I was sure, Mom. I still am.”
I pressed my fingers to my forehead. My son was so earnest it made me want to cry and lecture him at the same time.
“Why didn’t you come to me first?”
He looked miserable now. “Because if I told you, you’d want to figure out a grown-up way. Emily couldn’t wait. She needed it now.”
“Why didn’t you come to me first?”
That landed hard because he was right.
I was practical by nature. I made lists, stretched grocery money, and compared pharmacy prices across town. My son had skipped all that and gone straight to sacrifice.
I let out a slow breath. “Did you get a fair price?”
He nodded. “Mostly.”
“Mostly isn’t a number, David.”
“I asked for $1200. I got $850. But it was enough. I got it through the hospital, and it’s paid for. They’ll call when it’s ready.”
“Mostly isn’t a number, David.”
I closed my eyes.
That guitar had cost more, but not by much. It wasn’t reckless stupidity, and I had to admit he’d thought it through.
“Mom?”
I opened my eyes.
He was watching me carefully, the way he did when he wasn’t sure whether I was about to hug him or ground him.
“Are you mad?”
I looked at him for a long moment. “I am shocked, baby,” I said. “But I am so proud of you. And I’m also mad that you sold something that valuable without telling me first.”
That guitar had cost more.
He nodded quickly. “That’s fair.”
I held out my hand. “Come here.”
He crossed the room and folded himself into me, all elbows and thirteen-year-old awkwardness. I put my arms around him and felt the last of the anger dissolve into something heavier and warmer.
“You’re too much like your father,” I murmured.
