“It’s at Lucas’s place,” he said, as if he were telling me he’d borrowed a cup of sugar. “I dropped it off about an hour ago.”
I stared at the grout lines on the floor, the world tilting on its axis.
“You took my car to Lucas’s. Why. Is his car broken?”
“His car?” Dad scoffed. “Lucas doesn’t have a car. You know that. And with the baby coming, he can’t be taking the bus everywhere. It’s undignified for a man with a family.”
“I don’t understand,” I whispered, the shock slowly hardening into something sharp and jagged. “When are you bringing it back?”
“Bring it back?” He laughed again, louder this time. “Elina, you’re not listening. I gave it to him. He needs a reliable vehicle for my grandson. You’re a single woman living alone. You can take the train or get yourself a little compact thing. Lucas needs the space, and family—families—help each other.”
The betrayal was worse than the diagnosis of a terminal illness. It was a deliberate, calculated amputation of my life, performed with a smile by the man who was supposed to protect me. For a solid ten seconds, the only sound in the kitchen was the hum of the refrigerator and the shallow, jagged rhythm of my own breathing. My brain was trying to reject his words like a bad organ transplant. Gave it to him. As if it were an old sweater or a leftover casserole.
“You gave it to him,” I repeated, my voice barely audible.
I stood up, my legs feeling like they were made of water, and gripped the edge of the granite countertop—another thing I had paid for myself, to steady myself.
“Dad, that is a $60,000 vehicle. I just paid it off two weeks ago. You can’t just give it away.”
“Don’t talk about money like that. It’s unbecoming,” he snapped, his tone shifting instantly from dismissive to authoritative. “This is about priorities. Lucas has a baby on the way. His girlfriend—what’s her name—Jessica. She needs to get to appointments. What do you need an SUV for? Driving your groceries home. It’s selfish, Elina, hoarding a family resource like that.”
“A family resource?” I shouted, the volume of my voice startling me. “It’s not a family resource. It’s my property. My name is on the title. My bank account paid the loan. You didn’t pay a dime for that car.”
“I am the patriarch of this family,” he roared back, the distortion of the phone speaker crackling in my ear. “And I decide how we support one another. You have a good job. You sit in an office all day clicking a mouse. Lucas is struggling. He’s trying to find himself. He needs a break. Giving him this car gives him a leg up. You should be proud to help your brother, not screeching like a banshee.”
I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against the cool cabinet door. I could picture him perfectly—sitting in his recliner, feet up, feeling like a benevolent king, distributing wealth that wasn’t his. He truly believed he was in the right. In his world, I was just an extension of him, and my assets were his to command.
“Dad,” I said, forcing my voice into a terrifyingly low, calm register. “Does Lucas even have a license? His was suspended three years ago for the DUI.”
“Oh, don’t bring up the past.” He waved it off verbally. “He’s working on getting it back. He’s driving carefully. It’s fine. The car is safe. It’s in his driveway right now. He was so happy, Elina. You should have seen him. He finally felt like a man.”
“He felt like a man because you gave him my car,” I said flatly.
“He’s your brother!” Dad yelled. “You sacrifice for family. That is what women do. Your mother agrees with me completely. She said it was a wonderful gesture.”
“My mother agrees with whatever keeps you from yelling,” I muttered. But he didn’t hear me.
“Look, I’m done discussing this,” he said, the sound of a TV volume increasing in the background. “The car stays with Lucas. You can come over on Sunday for dinner and we’ll talk about helping you find a lease on something smaller, something more appropriate for a single girl. Don’t cause a scene, Elina. Don’t ruin this for him.”
The line went dead.
