THEN, THREE MONTHS BEFORE MY SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY, MARCUS STARTED DISAPPEARING
The first time, I heard the back door shut after eleven.
I looked through my bedroom window.
His truck pulled away.
He came home after two in the morning.
Then it happened again.
And again.
Soon, several nights every week.
At breakfast, his eyes were red.
His knuckles were cut.
There was grease beneath his fingernails that hadn’t been there when he left for work.
“Where were you?”
“Nowhere important.”
“Until two in the morning?”
“Eat your eggs, Sophie.”
Mom didn’t seem worried.
I assumed she simply didn’t know.
And the oldest fear inside me returned.
Men leave.
Sometimes—
they just spend a few months preparing first.
ONE NIGHT, I SEARCHED HIS JACKET
Marcus was showering.
I knew it was wrong.
I did it anyway.
Inside one pocket, I found three cash receipts from an auto-and-cycle shop.
All for parts.
Small amounts.
Nothing explaining the midnight drives.
I put everything back exactly where I found it.
The trips continued.
Then—
one week before my birthday—
they suddenly stopped.
MEANWHILE, CEDARBROOK HIGH SCHOOL HAD BECOME A CAR DEALERSHIP
Madison got her Jeep.
Tyler received a used BMW his father jokingly called a “starter car.”
A girl in chemistry showed up with an SUV decorated with balloons.
I rode the 4:15 bus home.
I told myself I didn’t care.
Then spent twenty minutes staring at everybody’s birthday posts.
So when Marcus apologized on my birthday morning—
I understood why.
He knew what everyone else had received.
But what I actually envied wasn’t the car.
Not really.
It was what seemed to come with it.
A father who had always been there.
