When Eli and I arrived home, his father’s truck was parked in the driveway.
Mark was sitting on the front steps.
He stood when he saw us.
His eyes were red.
Eli stopped walking.
Neither of them spoke for several seconds.
Then Mark looked at the dress.
“I was wrong.”
Eli’s jaw tightened.
Mark nodded slowly.
“I cared more about what strangers might think of my son than what my son was trying to do for his sister.”
He wiped at his face.
“I should’ve been there.”
Eli said nothing.
Mark’s voice broke.
“I can’t get that night back.”
“No,” Eli said quietly. “You can’t.”
I expected anger.
Instead, Eli walked past him toward the door.
Then stopped.
He turned.
“But you can decide what you do with tomorrow.”
Mark covered his face.
And cried.
Our family did not magically heal after graduation.
