That still felt manipulative.
“Why do you care this much?”
His face changed. Mom looked at him.
Then Dad said, “Because I had a friend like that once.”
I stopped. “When?”
“College.”
He rubbed his jaw. “His name was Darren.”
I’d heard the name once or twice. Dad rarely talked about him.
“We were roommates sophomore year. Best friends, I thought.”
He looked down the hallway.
“My dad had just sold part of his business. Darren found out my family had money.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing dramatic at first.”
Dad gave a humorless laugh.
“That’s why I didn’t notice.”
Darren started asking Dad to cover dinner.
Then rent. Then trips. Then loans. Then money for a business idea.
Every request was framed as something friends did for each other.
“How much did you give him?”
Dad didn’t answer.
Mom did. “Almost $20,000.”
My eyes widened.
“What?”
“And this was decades ago,” she added.
