His packed lunches.
His delayed truck repairs.
Five dollars here.
Twenty dollars there.
Whatever he could spare.
Again and again.
I took the keys.
Relief appeared on my biological father’s face.
Then I gently closed his fingers around them.
“I’ve wanted a car for two years.”
I turned toward Ray.
“But I wanted a dad for fourteen.”
Nobody said anything.
My biological father stared at me.
“So you’re choosing him?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Then I said the words that finally ended his little competition.
**“He chose me.”**
My biological father eventually drove away with the car.
Ray went straight back inside.
Ten minutes later, I found him standing at the kitchen sink washing our birthday breakfast dishes as though nothing extraordinary had happened.
“Ray.”
“What?”
