Chapter 8

When I woke up Monday morning I felt like a new man. I’d had a good weekend and a good night’s sleep. I felt invigorated. Motivated, even. I wasn’t sure why, at the time, but I really busted my butt that week. Whether it was school, swimming or lifting, I really gave it one hundred percent. That week flew by. I was half way through my chores on Saturday morning, again, giving it my all, when I realized that until then, I had been skating through my freshman year. It’s not that I hadn’t been trying. I had. It’s just that I hadn’t been trying as hard as I could. I wasn’t just passing all my classes. I was getting a solid A in all of them. Plus, I was lifting and swimming and staying up with my chores. It was the strangest thing. There I was, sweeping leaves off the garage roof at eight in the morning, when I realized I could be working at that level of effort all the time. I’d given it my all for an entire week and I was still standing. It hadn’t killed me.

I looked down and saw the top of Franklin’s car as he pulled into the driveway, skirting around the pile of leaves. When another batch of them flew off the garage roof, he leaned forward and looked up. I grinned at him like an idiot. I’m not sure how to describe the look he gave me in return. I pushed the last batch over the edge and climbed down the ladder to greet him.

“Up early, huh, Jack?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of been like that all week.”

“Any special reason?”

“Maybe. I’m still trying to figure it out, but I’ve got a lot done and feel pretty good about it.”

“Good. Change into some jeans and you can tell me about it.”

Ten minutes later, I slid into the car and we were off.

“What’s the plan, today, Franklin?”

“Why don’t you tell me about your week. We’re heading to North Charleston so we have a few minutes.”

I told him about my supercharged motivation for the week and all that I’d accomplished. He asked why and I told him I wasn’t sure but that I liked it and didn’t plan changing. It felt too good to be so productive.

“Glad to hear it. I’d like to know why so we could bottle it. If you figure it out, let me know.”

“I’ve been ruminating on that very thought all week.”

“Ruminating? Ruminating? What have you been reading?”

“Ayn Rand. A bunch of stuff but that’s probably something I read in The Fountainhead.”

“Ruminating. Love it. I’m using that this week.”

“I’ve been working on my vocabulary all year. I think Sally’s been trying to compete but neither of us have said so. Some of her words have been preposterous. So, what are we going to do?”

“Preposterous. I heard Dick Cavett say there was no greater indicator of one’s income than their vocabulary.”

“I heard him say he didn’t care for Ayn Rand. So, what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to build a house.” I didn’t respond. I felt industrious but not that industrious. I waited. “Okay, we’ll have help. This is a twofer. We’re going to volunteer our day working with Habitat for Humanity. So, we’ll be helping someone less fortunate get into their first house and at the same time, you might learn some new construction skills. Me too. Whatever they want me to do, that’s what I’ll do. You game?”

“Yeah. I’ve heard of it before but don’t know much about it but it sounds interesting. We don’t build the whole house, right?” He shook his head. “We just do part and someone else does another part. Sure. Why not?” I asked, wondering what part of a house I’d like to build.

As it turned out, I spent the better part of the day carrying shingles up a ladder and then nailing them to the roof. Franklin was working on a completely different house and I didn’t even find out until later that he was doing both plumbing and electrical work. I had my own private roofing tutor. His name was Wash. I’m sure it was his nickname or maybe his last name. It didn’t seem to matter. He was a strong, thin, old black man who had been putting roofs on houses since he was knee high to a grasshopper. At least that’s what he said. He taught me everything I needed to know, gave me lots of tricks of the trade, and we worked hard together. He was full of stories and it made the time fly. I asked a lot of questions.

When we climbed down, I realized how tired and sore I was. I had developed a couple of blisters on my right hand from using the hammer all day and my left hand didn’t like me very much, either. I saw Franklin a couple of doors down and he motioned for me. I was about to leave when I turned back to say goodbye to Wash.

“You’re not sore at all, are you?” I asked. Wash shook his head and smiled at me.

I took hold of his hand and held the palm up to look at it. It was thick with callouses. He just smiled at me.

“The good Lord gave us amazing bodies, Jack. We are fearfully and wonderfully made. You work hard at something; your body will adjust to it.”

I shook his calloused hand and winced a little because of my blisters. “Thanks, Wash. I learned a lot today. And not just about how to put a roof on. Thanks, a lot.”

“You’re a fine young man, Jack. Whatever you decide to do, if you put as much effort into it as you did to this home today, you’ll be fine.”

I thanked him again and took off for the car. I told Franklin about it on the way home. Wash was different than anyone else I’d known, except maybe Hector. I liked and admired both of them. Neither were afraid of hard work and they were both genuine. What you saw was what you got. I liked that. We were in the driveway before I realized I’d been talking a mile a minute about my day and hadn’t asked Franklin about his. I asked him about it.

“Good. I helped wire a couple of houses and learned how to put in a circuit breaker panel. When I went back to the first house we’d done, a crew was installing drywall. It was good. Got to see the whole process and learned a lot. Sounds like you learned more about life than roofs.”

“Yeah. Wash had a lot of stories. He was in Montgomery, Alabama during the bus boycott. I didn’t even know about it. He knew Martin Luther King and drove people to work so they wouldn’t have to take the bus or walk. That’s what he did. The whole time. For over a year. They had station wagons they called rolling churches. That’s where they picked everyone up. In front of churches. He said they filled the station wagons so full they had to go over bumps real slow.”

“Sounds like you got quite a history lesson.”

“Yeah. I guess it was. He made it really interesting. He should be a teacher.”

It got pretty quiet. Franklin waited a while and then said, “He is, isn’t he? Today, you were his lucky student.”

“Yeah. I guess I was.”

“I bet if there was a test on what he taught you today, you’d ace it.”

“Probably. Definitely.”

“But if he were teaching a room full?”

“Maybe people wouldn’t be paying that close attention. It was different. I never had to ask a history teacher to finish a story though.”

“Most history teachers haven’t lived through what they’re teaching. Wash has, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah. I guess that’s what made it different. You know what?”

“Tell me.”

“I bet there’s a whole bunch of old people that have really cool stories just waiting to be told.” I looked over and Franklin was grinning. “Did you set that up? Did you know I’d be working with him today?” He smiled. “You did. That’s what this was about, wasn’t it? You knew. You dog. Well, I don’t care. It was pretty cool.”

“I confess. I helped put a roof on a building about a year ago. Wash and I talked a lot, I knew he did this pretty often, and I’m sure he wasn’t surprised to see you.”

“So, it was kind of a set-up. His stories were pretty cool, even if it was.”

“Better than the batting cage?”

“Better than golf. Not sure about the batting cage. I guess I have some pretty cool stories, though. I’d do it again. After my hands heal. They hurt like crazy. I guess that was the price of the lesson.”

“But you would do it again?”

“Yeah.”

“So that takes the sting away?”

“No. It still stings but I’d pay that price again. They really hurt though. I should have brought my batting glove.”

“Ha. Maybe you should have. I’m glad you enjoyed your time with Wash as much as I did. For what it’s worth, my hands blistered up pretty good, too.”

We walked inside and Mom greeted us. I started talking but Franklin stopped me, told Mom about my hands and she got some ointment and ice before she’d let me talk. She was interested in the story but I think she was kind of pissed off at Franklin because my hands were a mess. She washed them in soapy water and took care of them and every now and then she’d look over her shoulder at Franklin and give him the stink eye.

After a while, Franklin left and Mom served me some dinner. I ate and fell asleep in the library. She didn’t wake me up.

Sunday morning, I woke up and had to think about it to realize where I was. I’d fallen asleep in the best chair in the house. That didn’t change the fact that I had to pee like a race horse. I went into the bathroom and had trouble getting my fly open. My hands hurt so bad I couldn’t even grab the zipper right. I undid the belt and shook my pants down. Dang, my hands hurt. I couldn’t bend them without hurting.

I cautiously changed clothes and went into the kitchen. Mom was baking more cupcakes for the kid next door.

“Want some breakfast?”

“I want some new hands. Dang, they hurt. My right one, at any rate. My left isn’t so bad. How does he do it?”

“Who? How does who do it?”

“Wash. They guy I spent the day with yesterday. Mom, he was like eighty or something and he worked circles around me and he wasn’t sore at all. How does he do it?”

“He’s been doing it for years, I’ll bet. His body adjusted to it.”

“But I shouldn’t hurt. I’m a kid. Younger, you know.”

“He probably has a terribly butterfly. I’ll bet you could beat him, easy.”

“I’ll bet he doesn’t ... okay, I get it. Still...”

“A bit humbling to have an old fart do something physically challenging and do it better than you.”

“No kidding. I think that’s what Saturdays are all about. Franklin keeps finding new ways to humble me.”

She laughed. “I bet it seems that way. But since he’s teaching you new things, it will probably seem that way a lot. Why don’t you teach him something next Saturday? Give him a dose.”

“Right. Like what? He knows all these things. What could I teach him?”

“I bet he doesn’t know how to swim the butterfly. Not the way you can, at least.”

“Yeah? You think I should offer to teach him?”

“Why not? Why should he have all the fun? Give him a dose of his own medicine. It will be good for both of you.”

“I guess. You think he would?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t know. Seems weird.”

That night, I lay in bed thinking about teaching Franklin. I tried to think if there was something else. Perhaps some other talent I could share with him. Perhaps there was but I couldn’t figure out what it might be. Butterfly and perhaps breast stroke. I didn’t think Franklin would know either of them very well and I was the fastest Freshman for either stroke and improving all the time. I thought I was the fastest freshman at freestyle, too but I hadn’t raced anyone to find out. I didn’t think Franklin could beat me in a race. I could help him improve. I was sure of it. At the same time, I had to ask myself, would he even want to? I enjoyed all the lessons with Franklin. Would he really enjoy learning how to swim a respectable butterfly stroke? I let the idea rattle around for a while and realized it was what I had to offer. If he didn’t benefit from it, that wasn’t my fault.

The next week went pretty smoothly. I found a potential piano tutor and I thought the rate seemed reasonable. The best part was that she lived in our neighborhood, had a grand piano and would be glad to teach Sally in her home. First, she wanted to hear Sally play so she could determine if they were a good fit. Tuesday afternoon, Mom and I were just getting ready to lift when Sally came by.

“I’m on my way to meet the piano tutor. Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck, sweetheart. Just do your best and show her that you’re ready to learn. You’ll do fine.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Pierce,” she said and pedaled off.

“It’s a good thing. What you’re doing. I’m proud of you for doing that,” Mom said.

“I wouldn’t be much of a boyfriend if I didn’t. Not a word to her mom.”

“Not a peep,” she said and we had a very quiet but very motivated workout.

I tried to call Sally that night but she couldn’t talk. A quick ‘thanks’ and that was it.

Wednesday afternoon, Sally was ready to lift but she was certainly quiet. We lifted. I tried to get her to open up but she was simply not going to talk. She set a couple of personal bests but they didn’t seem to be important to her. Aloof. That’s what she was; aloof. Mom tried to coax her into talking but that didn’t work either and when I was ready to ride back to her house with her, she waved me off. She told me ‘Thanks’ for the piano lesson but that was it. When she’d gone, I asked Mom about it.

“Something’s on her mind, Jack. You get that way sometimes and I just give you room. Somethings up and it’s troubling her. She’ll talk when she wants to. She knows how to find you.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, I’m certain of that but I don’t think this is about you at all. Back off and wait.”

I waited. She was the same the next time we lifted. She powered through it, posting more personal bests. These weren’t little five-pound increases either. She was definitely in some sort of power groove. It was like she had to prove something. I didn’t know if she had issues at school, if the piano lessons didn’t work out the way she hoped or what. I took Mom’s advice and just told her, “I’m here when you want to talk.” She acknowledged that without smiling and pedaled home.

I lost all focus. Whatever was troubling her was troubling me too, but for a different reason. My mind chased all kinds of possibilities from the likely to the ridiculous.

The rest of the week was like that. Sally was in some kind of a funk. She didn’t want to talk about it and it was driving me crazy. On Friday, Mom told me she’d talk to Janice and see if she knew what was going on. If she found out and could tell me, she would. That’s the best offer I had.

Saturday morning rolled around and I was up early. Franklin had promised an interesting day and I knew better than to ask. It would have to be a good one, to top my day with Wash and the week of silence from Sally. Franklin pulled up at seven and I hopped in.

“Anything from Sally?” he asked.

“Nothing. I guess Mom told you.” He nodded. “Something is bothering her in a big way. Everything was going along smoothly and then, boom, she’s a different person. Whatever it is, it’s hurting her.”

“Nothing you did?”

“I don’t think so. I’d be surprised. Plus, I think she’d tell me. I mean, why wouldn’t she? Mom said she’d talk to Mrs. Hinkleman and see if she could figure it out.”

“I’m sorry, Jack. Not easy.”

“No. It’s really not. A couple of months ago, I wouldn’t have cared but now, it’s the most important thing in my life and I don’t even know what it is.”

“Sorry. I hope what we’ve got in store for us today will help take your mind off it for a while at least.”

“Yeah. Where are we going, anyway? I don’t even know where we are.”

“Just past Huger.” He said it like the native he was. A lot of people don’t know to say you-gee and end up saying hugger or worse.

“I saw that. But where are we going? I can’t remember being out this way before.”

“Do you remember Gary? Gary Fielding? The guy with the boat on the lake.”

“Yeah. Sure. Fishing again?”

“Nope. Gary’s aunt has a place just outside Cordesville, on Sawmill Road. She bought it a year or so ago and now she’s going to make some changes.”

“I’m going to be putting another roof on a house,” I said.

“Nope. This is different. She’s decided she wants to clear an acre or two. Part of that will be for a barn and another part will be dug out for a pond. Horses and fish. So, today, we’re going to help clear those two acres.”

“That sounds like more work than last week,” I groaned.

“Nope,” he said as we pulled alongside a couple of parked trucks. “They are still cutting trees but you won’t be doing that.”

“No? Cutting down trees sounds like it might be fun.”

“Probably. But not as much fun as learning how to operate a Bobcat, a front-end loader and an excavator,” he said pointing at them on a couple of nearby trailers.”

“No shit?” I asked.

“Nope. No shit. Gary’s older brother, Andrew, works construction. He’s going to teach you how and then let you go for it. I’ve been assured that it would be hard to mess up in a big open field like this and there’s plenty of other work, cutting trees.”

We hopped out and found Gary. He introduced us to Andrew and he asked what I knew about any of the equipment. I assured him he had a clean slate. I knew nothing. I told him I knew all the equipment and had done it all before ... when I was six. I had the complete set of Tonka trucks.

“I had the set, too. Want to try it with the real thing?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Good. What do you think is the most important thing?”

“Oh, man. I don’t know. How to steer it? How to operate it, I guess.”

“If you want to get anything done, yes. But the number one thing for any tool is safety. Everything out here can be dangerous. I did a safety check on everything right after we offloaded them from the trailer. If you do this again, I’ll walk you through it, if you want. You’re going to break your face if you keep grinning like that.”

“I’m going to risk it.”

“I thought you might. Climb in and let’s get you comfortable.”

I sat in the chair and Gary pointed out the seat controls. I moved the seat a couple of times until if felt comfortable. He told me to put on the seatbelt and how the safety bar worked. I heard the excavator crank up and practically gave myself whiplash, trying to see what was going on.

“Focus on what you’re doing. If you ever did this at a busy worksite, there’d be a million distractions.” I got serious.

Pointing to each control, he talked me through all the different things a Bobcat could do and then went through the different operations. I could drive it with my left hand on a joystick and operate the bucket with my right hand on another joystick. The gauges were practically overhead so I could watch my work. When he was satisfied, I had the general idea, and had wiped the grin off my face, he had me start it up. It was just like starting a car, which I’d done before. I drove it forward, backward and turned it and I know my goofy grin was back.

The bucket was cake. I could move it up and down and pivot it. That was it. If I let go of the joysticks, the thing stopped. It was sort of a failsafe.

“Alright, now comes the real test. Let’s see if you can move the cat over to that stump,” he said, pointing, “pick it up with the bucket and dump it in the front-end loader. And, let’s see if you can do it without the grin.”

I was able to drive it fine but getting the angle of the bucket right was a bit of a challenge. I managed to pull a stump, drive it to the front-end loader and drop it in. I looked over to see Gary give me a thumbs up, and Franklin joined him. I realized I’d been holding my breath for about a minute and relaxed. I repeated the process two times and Gary met me by the next stump.

“Any questions?” I shook my head. “Don’t rush. This isn’t a race. Don’t get distracted. If you’re unsure, let go of the joysticks and it will stop. Kill the engine if you need to and sit tight. Sound good?” I nodded again. “One more thing. You can stop making sound effects. The Bobcat makes its own.”

No way. I know I turned red. I had been making Tonka Toy sound effects as I operated the Cat. Great. I was six again. He saw my embarrassment.

“I won’t tell. It’s hard not to, sometimes. Let’s see if you can drop that in the front-end loader. If not, just get it close and drop it. I’ll take care of it later.”

I managed to put it in without too much trouble. It was starting to become fun. I told him.

“It is fun. For about the first hundred trees or so. Then it’s just a different kind of work. Every stump in this clearing has to go. If you run into a problem or need anything, just push the red button up here,” he said pointing to the top of the cage, “and the engine will stop. Questions?”

“I don’t think so. I’m not going to hurt anything if I do something wrong, am I.”

“Not as long as you stay in the clearing, Jack.”

He left me to it and I started to work. After pulling about thirty stumps, I understood what he meant. It was fun for the first thirty stumps but then it was turning into a different kind of work. It also took more concentration than I had thought. The field behind me was lumpy from the holes I’d left behind and the field in front of me had plenty of stumps left. I was starting to feel discouraged when Andrew met me as I dumped another stump near the front-end loader.

“Got it figured out?” he asked.

“Kind of. I’m sure there’s a lot of tricks to it and I don’t feel like I’m being very, I don’t know, efficient, I guess.”

“That comes with practice. Don’t ask me how many fields I’ve cleared or how many stumps I’ve pulled but you’re doing fine. I would have no problem leaving you to it but I hear you’d like to learn how to work an excavator, too,” he said. I smiled at that and we left the Bobcat behind.

I climbed into the excavator and noticed that some of the controls looked the same but there were more of them. He let me orient for a minute.

“Forward and back are about the same. You can rotate the house by moving this,” he said pointing to a joystick.

“House?”

“House is what we call the top of the tool. The entire house will rotate. Give it a spin.” I did and brought it back to a stop. “Good. Goes either direction. Next, let’s take a look at boom operation.”

He went on to show me how to operate the boom and the thumb, then gave me a brief idea of the other stuff it could do. I drove it over to an area that had been marked out. He gave me instructions on how deep and where to put the dirt and I began to dig a pond.

“You drive the Bobcat everywhere. With the excavator, you can get a lot of the work done by spinning the house. No sound effects,” he said, smiling.

As he climbed down, I made some loud sound effects and he laughed and waved at me over his shoulder. Back to work. The Bobcat was fun but the excavator was bigger and a lot more fun.

I was just getting into the swing of things when I saw Franklin motion for me. Andrew and Gary were next to him, grinning. The message was clear. I shut the machine down and climbed out.

“You did good, kid. My turn,” Andrew said, climbing up.

“I think you surprised him on how quick you caught on. But the trees are all down and they need to get moving. Andrew’s pretty fast,” Gary said as the machine started up again.

Franklin and I walked back to the car, watching Andrew work as we did. He was fast. Like ridiculously fast. No wonder he wanted to take over. I was slowing them down.

“Have fun?” Franklin asked, as we crept over the dirt path toward the road.

“Yeah. It’s crazy how much concentration that took.”

“Pretty sure that by the time you got as good as Andrew, it’d be second nature.”

“Lot of hours, no doubt. Pretty fun, though. I bet I’m the only kid at Porter that’s ever done that.”

“Probably.”

We got to the road and Franklin pulled out and we headed for home. We were almost home when I realized Franklin was talking to me.

“Sorry. What did you say?”

“Where were you? Take a detour to Lala Land?”

“I guess. What did you say?”

“I asked if you were hungry. Thinking about Sally,” he said as a statement more than a question.

“Yeah. Pretty much all the time. It’s not like she’s angry, at least not at me. She just kind of withdrew. Like a turtle, you know.”

“Maybe something happening in the family. Whatever it is, all you can do is be there for her if she wants to talk.”

“What would you do if Karen did that?”

“We’ve been dating a lot longer. I think she’d let me know up front.”

We went out for Mexican and talked about the morning. Franklin had been cutting trees most of the time. He already knew how to handle a chain saw but he said he had some professional instruction and he felt a lot better about it. Chain saws are more dangerous than excavators. At least that what I was supposed to believe. Thinking back, I couldn’t begin to tell you where we went or what I had. My mind was in a fog, just trying to figure what was up with Sally. She was hurting and I felt a little guilty for having fun.

When we got home, Franklin talked with Mom a while. I tried to read but it was pointless. I called Sally’s house but there was no answer. The whole situation very definitely sucked and I didn’t have a clue what was causing it. I hopped on my bike and went for a ride. Without really thinking about it, I ended up at the Wappoo Cut. It was kind of weird because as I got close to the picnic bench I’d claimed as my own, I saw Sally sitting there, her bike laying in the grass next to her. I eased up to the table and stopped.

“Hey,” I said, gently.

“Hey, yourself.”

I sat next to her and waited for her to say something, anything, that would let me in. She seemed content to watch people launch and catch their boats so I helped watch.

After a long silence, she finally said, “Thanks for the piano lessons. It was hard and I have a lot of homework.” I waited. “I think Dad’s going to pay for lessons soon, though. Raise in pay coming soon.”

“That’s great,” I said. “That was a big deal, I know.”

“Yeah. Really great,” she said but her heart obviously wasn’t in it.

“It’s good, right?” I asked, wondering why she wasn’t happy about it.

“The raise is good,” she said, finally looking at me. “How he’s getting the raise isn’t. More money, more responsibility, more opportunity. Yeah, yeah. That’s all good. Just one tiny little problem. The money, responsibility and opportunity are all in Nashville.”

“Nashville? Like in Tennessee? I don’t get it.”

“We’re moving, Jack. We’re moving to Tennessee.”

“What? Oh. Oh. All of you. Not like just your dad for a few months or something.”

“No. All of us. And soon. Like over Christmas break.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Her eyes were wet and mine were about to be. I felt lunch coming up and I tried to hold it back but it wasn’t easy.

“No. Tell me you’re kidding. You can’t leave. We’re just getting started. No. Don’t mess with me, Sally. It’s not funny.”

“It’s not funny. We’re leaving.”

I couldn’t sit still. I got up and walked around and nausea overcame me. I stepped behind a bush and wretched but nothing came up. I braced myself and took a couple of deep breaths, then walked back around the bush and back to the table.

“When?”

“Maybe before Christmas.”

“That’s only a couple of weeks from now. What do we do? Holy crap.”

“Yeah. Holy crap.”

“Oh, man. That truly sucks.” We sat in silence for a few moments. That explained why Sally had been so distant. “How far is Nashville? It’s like a four-hour drive or something, isn’t it?”

“Chattanooga is. Nashville is all the way on the west side of the state.”

“So, how far is that?”

“Nine hours. Nine.”

“Crap,” I said.

“Yeah. Crap. I’d rather stay here and move to a smaller house or whatever.”

I felt bad for her and I felt bad for me. Shit. This was the worst news, the worst possible thing that could happen and Sally had known for a week or so. “What is in Nashville? I’m sure there’s some good stuff. Graceland. Isn’t that in Nashville?” I thought I could cheer her up but it wasn’t easy to. How could I cheer her up? I needed to be cheered up.

“I don’t know what’s in Nashville. I don’t care what’s in Nashville. You’re not in Nashville. It’s not like we’re moving to Sullivan’s Island or North Charleston or something. It’s fucking nine hours away and I’m two years from having a car.” Sally never swore.

“Shit,” I said. I almost never swore either.

We sat there watching boats and people without saying anything else for a long time.

“I thought maybe you were mad at me or something.”

“I wish. I’d get over that.”

“Your dad knows you’re not too happy about it, right?”

“Yeah. I pretty much threw a fit when I heard. I guess I threw some stuff. I’m grounded.”

“But you’re here.”

“Yeah. I’m not really keen on being grounded, you know? Nashville. It’s like I’m going to be grounded for the rest of my life anyway. How much more trouble could I get in?”

“Maybe you could stay with your sister. She has her own place, right?”

“Yeah. Tried that route already. He didn’t even ask me if I wanted to move to Nashville. I’m part of the family, right? Shouldn’t I have an input on something like that? He decided and so I have to go and that’s that. Mom was trying to be all cheerful and everything but I’m pretty sure that was just a show for my benefit. Dad thinks money solves everything.”