Chapter 1

I took the envelope from Mom and opened it.

“What is it?” I asked, then saw the name of the local college and its logo embossed on the upper left corner of the white envelope. I pulled the single page out but Mom’s nervous smile offered the only hint I really needed.

“You didn’t!”

She shrugged.

“We can’t afford it,” I protested.

The envelope fell to the floor as I unfolded the single page and scanned the text, reading silently until I reached the last sentence of the first paragraph.

“Congratulations on your acceptance to the Engineering Program at Central Technical College.”

The second paragraph started, “A full student package has already been mailed...”

I looked at my mother who was grinning from ear to ear.

“Mom, I ... we can’t ... how did you...”

“I knew you could do it, Mason. I just knew it! Congratulations, baby!”

She threw her arms around my chest and squeezed tight, burying the letter between us as her hands slipped up to press my head down so she could plant a wet smooch on each cheek and then, in her exuberance, right on my lips.

“Mom, we can’t afford it! Dad said so.”

The memory of the dismal day when my father told me he couldn’t afford to pay for college popped into my mind. “I was downsized, remember?” he had said. “I could sell the Cuda to get you started if you want but look what it did for me. Nothing,” he added bitterly. I didn’t bite. I knew he would never sell the Cuda; it would break his heart because he had always said the Cuda would be mine one day.

Mom’s voice knocked me out of my reverie. “We can. I have the first two years put away and we can handle the rest in time.”

“Did you get a raise?”

Mom appeared coy.

“They save enough with me working at home to pass a little on and I don’t have to spend as much on clothes, driving, parking, lunches—it all adds up.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Well, it’s true. You’re going to be an engineer just like your father.”

The downer was brief. Dad liked to say he was downsized but I knew he had been fired for drinking on the job and now got consulting work wherever he could. Jobs had been few and far between for the past year.

“Yeah, an engineer, just like Dad.”

I shrugged it off and grabbed Mom in a big hug, lifting her off her feet and whirling around the kitchen. I was so happy, I picked her up again less than a minute later for another ecstatic tour around the room.

Two months later, I was rushing home from school, eager and pumped, but also a little worried. I had attended a film course and wanted to take it as the one elective I was allowed but knew Mom would prefer something more practical. If she was anything, it was pragmatic, which wasn’t surprising for someone who had been running our household for almost three years. But hell, it was my birthday and the film course would top off the big gift I had been waiting for since I was four years old. Surely, she would allow a bit of icing on the cake.

Since I was a toddler Dad had promised the Cuda would be mine when I turned eighteen and today was the day!

“If you want your father’s car you better behave yourself,” Mom had told me a million times.

I turned the corner onto our street and slowed to a brisk walk after passing the first three houses on the block. Two more to go, all of them nicer than ours because we couldn’t afford to keep it up like the neighbors did. Still, my parents—mostly Mom—had managed to keep the house and that had to have been hard. Man, how had she managed to save enough for me to go to college? She was a miracle worker, that was for sure.

I breathed deep. For years, it had been covered up in the garage but when Mom needed space for an office at home, the Sassy Grass green 70 Cuda hardtop was put in storage. But I knew she would have it all cleaned up, sparkling, licensed, insured and sitting in the driveway ready to go.

I passed the second house from ours but still couldn’t see the distinctive tail pipes or the wide rear wheels. It must be parked further up the drive. Passing the house next door, I began to worry. Surely she hadn’t forgotten and left it all dusty in storage? It wasn’t the weekend yet but she had to know I couldn’t wait two more days to drive it!

I stopped at the end of our drive and stared in disbelief at the empty space stretching all the way to the, now no longer functional, garage door. The Cuda wasn’t there!

Neither was Dad’s car. I unlocked the front door and entered the house.

“Mom? Mom? Mom!”

She didn’t answer. I went upstairs and knocked on Dad’s office door, formerly the spare bedroom. He was slumped on his chair, passed out, as usual.

I went downstairs to the kitchen and was relieved to see evidence of preparations for a special meal and baking pans in the sink. She hadn’t forgotten!

That was it! She had gone to get the car. I had come home too early and ruined the surprise. I had to get out, through the back door, in case she drove up while I was still on the street. I started to go out the back, then remembered I hadn’t locked the front, and rushed to do it. I threw the bolt and turned to go but the red stamp on the letter on the hall table caught my eye.

Last Notice

Though I didn’t consciously read the return address I noted it anyway: Davis Storage. That’s where the car was stored. How could Mom forget to pay the bill? Was she behind and having trouble getting the car out?

I opened the envelope and read the bill. This couldn’t be right. The storage space had been closed three months ago and fifty dollars was owing for the last month. The letter explained that the space was rented monthly and even though it had only been used for one week of the last month the full fee had to be paid. Mom had only paid for the first week.

And that had been three months ago! Where had she put the car?

Tires crunched on the driveway but there was no satisfying rumble from the Cuda’s giant 440ci engine and thus no need to hide to keep the ‘surprise’ alive. I returned to the kitchen and sat down, the overdue bill crumpled in my right fist, and waited for my mother.

Mom came in, loaded down with bags, and bumped the door closed behind her. Her face lit up when she saw me.

“Hi! Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Her pace slowed when she registered the dejected look on my face and it drained the cheer from her own. She looked at the crumpled paper in my right hand and the envelope hanging loosely in my left with the red stamp facing her. That brought her to a halt at the far end of the table and she slowly set the bags down.

“Oh, baby. I know you’re disappointed but an education is so much more important than a car. You can buy another car when you’re done.” She started around the table but my cold glare stopped her dead in her tracks.

“You sold Dad’s car? My car.”

“I had to, honey, I...”

“You sold the car?” I repeated, crumpling the envelope in my left fist and raising my right toward her. “My car!”

“Honey.”

“It was supposed to be my car, today!”

“I know, honey, but...”

“But nothing! I’ve waited my whole life for that car, and you ... sold it! I don’t believe it!”

I got up and shoved the table away, pushing the chair at the far end into Mom’s legs. As she stumbled back I stomped out of the kitchen and all the way up the stairs, then slammed the door to my room.

Mom didn’t call me down to dinner. It was almost nine before hunger drove me from my room. I descended the stairs cautiously, hoping my mother had gone to bed. It was dark in the living room but there was a light on in the kitchen. Shit! I couldn’t avoid her if I wanted to eat. I went in anyway; I was starving.

The kitchen was empty. There was a plate with saran wrap covering it on the table with a note saying how long to put it in the microwave and an accompanying large plate of cake with my name inscribed on the top. The note was signed: ‘Love you, Mom.’

I was still hurt and angry but my heart softened. Only a little, though, just a little.

Mom and I barely talked for the next few days, or more accurately, she hardly spoke to me and I didn’t answer at all. I never did tell her about the film class. I didn’t care any more what she thought about it. To hell with her!

By the middle of the next week I realized I had behaved like a spoiled brat. Yes, I didn’t have the car but I was on the path to being an engineer. Mom was right. I could get my own car, even a 70 Cuda, or something better, something like the Cuda would have meant to Dad in his day—a Ferrari maybe. And how much had Mom sacrificed to give me that chance?

I felt like an asshole and hurried home to apologize. I wanted to make up. On the way, I stopped to buy some flowers, just a few because I hardly had any money—Mom had made me quit my part time job so I could concentrate on getting good grades—but I wanted to make her feel better.

I entered the house quietly. She was in her office working so I put the flowers in her favorite vase and put them on the dining room table, remembering to put a doily underneath. The garage door opened and Mom stood there looking from me to the flowers.

“Oh, Mason.”

She rushed past me to smell the flowers and my heart twisted even more. She really lit a room up when she was happy.

“They’re beautiful! Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

She turned toward me and I held my arms out. Her eyes began to tear and she stepped close, wrapping her arms around my chest and resting her head on my chest. When she shuddered, I felt the hurt pour out of her soul.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I acted like a little kid.”

“You were so disappointed,” she sobbed, finding it impossible not to protect me, even from myself. “I should have remembered how important it was to you. I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You were right. An education is more important than a car. Dad should have done it himself.”

Mom drew back to look at me. She smiled and her eyes misted. “Actually, he did.”

My mouth dropped open. Dad had sold the car? I couldn’t believe it. Mom explained.

“He started spending the money so I took most of it out for your first two years in college. He doesn’t know it’s gone yet.”

I looked at Mom in disbelief. To my knowledge, she had never defied my father.

“So he didn’t sell it to pay for my college?”

Mom shook her head and looked away.

“What will happen when he finds out it’s gone?”

“I don’t know but don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.”

Given how meek Mom had always been around my father that wasn’t much comfort. On the other hand, maybe it was a sign that, despite appearances, Mom wasn’t just the one that paid the bills, she was the one in control. Mom pulled away.

“Can we have your birthday dinner tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She stretched up, gave me a quick kiss, and settled back on her heels looking very pleased. What a contrast from my father who hadn’t even noticed that my birthday had come and gone.

Mom was quiet at breakfast the next morning. I felt closer to her than I ever had, knowing we shared a secret. I couldn’t help smiling when Dad wasn’t looking and could barely contain myself until he went to his office upstairs which had once been the spare bedroom.

“You know what?” Mom asked.

“What?”

“I know what I can give you for your eighteenth birthday.”

“Mom, we can’t afford presents while I’m in college.”

“It isn’t right that you don’t have a present for such an important birthday, and anyway, what I have in mind won’t cost a thing.”

“What won’t cost a thing?”

“Me.”

“You?” I was confused.

“Yes. I’m going to be your present.”

I looked at her like she was nuts.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m going to do exactly what you say for a week.”

“A week?”

“Okay, you lost a car, a very special one. How about a month?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’ll be my boss.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to make up for selling the car.”

“Why? It’s not your fault. Dad’s the one who sold it.”

“Yes, but I knew he was going to do it.”

“You knew?”

Mom looked away.

“Well, I knew it was only a matter of time. I haven’t been leaving enough money in the bank account for his ... habit.” She put her hand over mine. “Don’t be angry. He can’t help it.”

“Why’d you let him do it?”

“Because I wanted to use the money for your college and I couldn’t do it unless he sold it.”

I grimaced and tried to withdraw my hand but Mom hung on.

“You know it’s for the best, Mason.”

I did but at that moment I felt very much like an eighteen year old.

“I know but I’ve dreamed about that car every night for years. I’ll get over it.”

“I know, sweetheart but let me help.”

“How?”

“Like I said. You can be the boss. You say what you want for dinner and I’ll make it.”

“Even if Dad doesn’t like it?”

Mom laughed. “Especially if he doesn’t like it.”

“For a whole month?”

“Yes. You get to eat what you want for a whole month.”

Actually, this didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

“I get to say what we eat for dinner?” I asked, wondering if breakfast was included too.

“Not just dinner. You can have the final say about everything.”

“Like what?”

“Everything your father used to be in charge of.”

“Like?”

“What we eat, when we go out, where we go, what I wear, what we watch on TV...”

“Mom, I don’t think Dad will give up control of the TV.”

“Okay, realistically the TV will have to stay in your father’s domain.”

“I don’t know, Mom.”

“Just say yes. It’ll be fun and it will make me feel better.”

“Okay, then. Yes. Can I finish my breakfast now?”

For the next week I decided what we were going to eat for breakfast and dinner. Mom had to remind me the first few days but eventually I got the hang of it. Dad complained about the meal once but Mom’s curt reply, “You sold his car. He should at least get to eat what he wants,” put an end to that.