a note.
Caitlyn,
Enjoy your day, honey.
Time will pass so quickly.
In a blink of an eye,
You will be off to college.
Treasure this time.
Love, Mom
I typed the words into my phone. I stopped and reread my lies. It took me several attempts before I had even convinced myself I was being truthful. Holding my breath, I prayed I wouldn’t have to use my father’s death as my excuse, and just
hit send.
Caitlyn: Hey Rach, I am not going to make it today
Rachel: What! No! >:(
Rachel: It’s been ages!!!!!
Caitlyn: 3 days
Caitlyn: I saw you at the funeral.
Damn you for making me pull the dead father card! Why does she alwayshave to exaggerate?
Rachel: Doesn’t count!!!
Caitlyn: It’s a crazy time. Mom needs me. The beach soon? Tell
everyone hello. xoxo
Rachel: Ok, Caitlyn. Promise we’ll see each other soon.
I almost saw Rachel’s big doe eyes filling with dramatic tears.
Caitlyn: I promise.
With those words, I turned my phone on silent. Without a second thought, I
stuffed my cell, along with the money, into my purse, and headed out. When I opened the garage door, the silver paint of my 1989 Porsche 911 glimmered. I
forced back the tears brimming in my eyes.
Images of the day my father brought the car home flashed before me. We had just finished dinner, and he casually said, “Oh, I left your gift in the trunk of my car. Could you go get it for me? I need to make a quick phone call.”
When I frowned, he added, “It will be quick. Get your present and we’ll open it together.”
I entered the garage, flipped on the light, and screamed. Under the
fluorescent light sat a convertible with a big silver bow on the hood. Keys dangled before me as my father hugged me from behind.
“Happy Sweet Sixteen, darling Caity,” my father said. “It is a special car for
a magnificent young woman.”
“Gregory, it must have cost a fortune,” my mother gasped.
“No price is too high for my girls. I wanted to get you a brand new one, but
the deal I got on this classic was too good to pass up. I hope you like it.”
“Like it? I love it!” I laughed throwing my arms around him, almost
knocking him down.
“Gregory, convertibles are so unsafe,” my mother scolded. “If she is ever hit,
she will go flying out of the car.” She shuddered in horror for effect.
