Everything I wanted to say to him was sitting right there in my chest.
I could have said all of it in front of everyone and watched him drive home proud with it.
Instead, I turned toward the porch.
I could feel my father’s eyes on me, confused now instead of proud, the keys still resting on his open palm, forgotten.
“Marcus. Come here a second.”
I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope I’d been carrying folded in half for three long weeks, waiting for exactly this moment.
Marcus walked over slowly, glancing between me and my father, clearly unsure what was happening.
My father’s smile faltered slightly.
“What’s this?” Marcus asked, looking at the envelope.
“Open it,” I said. “Please.”
Everyone else went quiet, even my father, whatever irritation had been building in his face pausing long enough to watch too.
