I sat down on the edge of his bed without meaning to.
“Her old chair was barely working.”
Emily was his classmate. She was a sweet girl with sharp eyes and a lovely smile, and she always had a book on her lap when I picked David up from school events.
She had been paralyzed after an accident when she was little. I knew that much. But I didn’t know her chair had gotten that bad.
“How did you even do this?” I asked.
He shifted in the doorway. “I posted the guitar online. Mr. Keller from church bought it.”
I blinked. “You sold an expensive guitar to a grown man from church without telling me?”
“He asked if I was sure like… four times, Mom.”
She had been paralyzed after an accident when she was little.
“David…”
“I was sure, Mom. I still am.”
I pressed my fingers to my forehead. My son was so earnest it made me want to cry and lecture him at the same time.
“Why didn’t you come to me first?”
He looked miserable now. “Because if I told you, you’d want to figure out a grown-up way. Emily couldn’t wait. She needed it now.”
“Why didn’t you come to me first?”
That landed hard because he was right.
I was practical by nature. I made lists, stretched grocery money, and compared pharmacy prices across town. My son had skipped all that and gone straight to sacrifice.
I let out a slow breath. “Did you get a fair price?”
He nodded. “Mostly.”
“Mostly isn’t a number, David.”
“I asked for $1200. I got $850. But it was enough. I got it through the hospital, and it’s paid for. They’ll call when it’s ready.”
“Mostly isn’t a number, David.”
I closed my eyes.
That guitar had cost more, but not by much. It wasn’t reckless stupidity, and I had to admit he’d thought it through.
“Mom?”
I opened my eyes.
He was watching me carefully, the way he did when he wasn’t sure whether I was about to hug him or ground him.
“Are you mad?”
I looked at him for a long moment. “I am shocked, baby,” I said. “But I am so proud of you. And I’m also mad that you sold something that valuable without telling me first.”
That guitar had cost more.
He nodded quickly. “That’s fair.”
I held out my hand. “Come here.”
He crossed the room and folded himself into me, all elbows and thirteen-year-old awkwardness. I put my arms around him and felt the last of the anger dissolve into something heavier and warmer.
“You’re too much like your father,” I murmured.
He pulled back. “Is that good or bad?”
“Today? Inconvenient, expensive, and good.”
That made him laugh.
“You’re too much like your father.”
The next morning, my son made me a cup of tea and asked if we could pick up the wheelchair.
“It’s ready at the hospital, Mom,” he said. “Can we go? And then drop it off at Emily’s house? It’s going to be a surprise because… I didn’t say anything about it.”
“What about her parents, honey? Won’t they be mad that you meddled?” I asked, already putting my shoes on.
“I don’t think they can be mad. They couldn’t help her, so I did. I’m not blaming them. It’s just that… she needed it.”
“Won’t they be mad that you meddled?”
Emily opened the door in her old chair and went completely still when she saw David.
He cleared his throat. “Hey, Em. I…”
She looked from him to the box and back again. “What’s that?”
