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

So I stayed.

At eighteen, I began measuring my home by what it cost to remain there, and I stopped asking Dad about the band.

Three days later my guitar case was gone from the garage shelf.

Frank said I must have moved it myself.

I checked under the bed, behind the dresser, inside the closet.

Nothing.

That night I started a list of places I had looked.

The last line stayed blank.