My Dad Started Charging Me $250 a Month for My Room When I Turned 18 — Five Years Later, After His Funeral, His Best Friend Handed Me a Box

He looked at me then.

I had seen that look when a bill came in higher than expected, or when the Buick made a noise he could not identify.

It was the look he wore when a problem had to be handled and he did not want to discuss how it had begun.

He opened the small drawer beneath the television and placed the photograph inside.

“That was a long time ago.”