“Tell me.”
He sat on the floor across from me, still wearing my ridiculous old dress.
“Four months ago, Dad called me over. He could barely walk that week, remember?”
I did.
“He asked me to bring down a box from the attic. I thought it was insurance papers or something.”
Daniel looked at the earring.
“Then he pulled this dress out.”
“What did he say?”
Daniel rubbed both palms against his knees.
“He asked me a question.”
“What question?”
His eyes lifted to mine.
“He asked when the last time was that you did something just because you wanted to.”
My voice completely failed me.
Daniel continued, “I told him I didn’t know.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
I bristled. “I do things I want.”
“Like what?”
“I…”
The answer should have been easy.
It wasn’t.
Daniel looked away first.
“Dad couldn’t answer either.”
I tugged at my collar.
“He started talking about vacations,” Daniel recalled. “He said every vacation we’d ever taken was somewhere he wanted to go, somewhere I wanted to go, or somewhere that worked with school.”
“Families compromise,” I said.
“I know.”
“He was sick, Danny. He was emotional.”
“I agree.”
“Then what?”
Daniel braced himself.
“He said your whole life had become lists.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“Grocery lists. Medication lists. Things I needed in college. Things Dad needed for treatment. People’s birthdays. Appointments.”
He rubbed his face.
“He said he couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked what you wanted without already giving you choices.”
My chair scraped backward as I stood.
