“While you’re out ‘finding yourself’ or whatever this is, I’m stuck working overtime just to make ends meet. I had to cancel my vacation. I can’t even afford to get my car fixed properly.
And you’re spending what could have helped me on… this.” I gestured toward the motorcycle. Dad sighed, looking suddenly every one of his seventy-three years. “I’m sorry you’re struggling.
I truly am. But I worked hard my entire life to reach this moment. To have the freedom to do the one thing I’ve always wanted to do.”
“And what about what I want?
What I need?” I demanded. “What you want is for me to fund your lifestyle. What you need…” he paused, seeming to choose his words carefully, “is to learn that my purpose in life isn’t to solve your financial problems.”
“So that’s it?
After everything, you’re just going to abandon me for a motorcycle trip?” I knew I sounded childish, but couldn’t stop myself. Dad looked at me for a long moment, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I wasn’t going to give you this, because I wanted you to understand something first.
But maybe this will help.”
