I glanced at the electricity bill. “After groceries and utilities, we’ll figure something out.”
“You always say that.”
“And I always figure something out, don’t I?”
He smiled. “Usually.”
We’ll figure something out.
Fortunately, we still had Dad’s old Toyota. Ben called it Grandpa because its engine groaned whenever I turned the key.
“Grandpa sounds sick,” Ben announced one morning.
“He’s just waking up.”
“You said that before his muffler fell off,” Noah reminded me.
Dad taught me to change oil and diagnose small problems. Whenever I lift that hood, I remember his patient voice.
We still had Dad’s old Toyota.
Unfortunately, our wealthy neighbor Richard considers the car an eyesore. He owns a business and loves reminding everyone how successful he is.
His twelve-year-old son, Tyler, imitates him.
Last month, Tyler smashed our kitchen window with a baseball.
“Kids will be kids,” Richard said when I confronted him.
I paid for the glass with money saved for Ben’s shoes.
