Brandon reached deep inside her pink overnight bag sitting near the desk.
When he pulled his arm back out, he held a small red velvet jewelry box.
He carefully placed it into her small hands.
The box was tiny enough that her small fingers could wrap around it completely.
“If Grandma ever tries to make you feel invisible or unwanted again,” Brandon said, “you get to decide whether she receives this. Not me, not your mother, but you.”
That decision took me completely by surprise.
He was not asking our seven year old to fight his personal battles for him.
He was handing our daughter total agency over whether a strict boundary he had already created would finally be enforced.
Holly turned the velvet box over in her small hands.
“Is Grandma going to be mad at us?”
“She probably will be very mad,” Brandon answered honestly.
Holly dropped her voice down to a whisper.
“Will you still be my dad if she gets mad?”
For a fraction of a second, Brandon’s confident expression completely cracked.
He was not struggling with the answer, but rather heartbroken that Gene had successfully planted such a cruel doubt inside a young child’s mind.
“I will always be your dad,” Brandon said with absolute conviction.
Holly held onto the red box and tucked it away.
