Dad had been preparing this before he ever walked into my kitchen asking for $1,000.
The request had not started the problem.
It had been part of something already underway.
That realization changed how I remembered his embarrassment.
Maybe he had not been ashamed only because he needed money.
Maybe he had been carrying the weight of whatever he was finally trying to tell me.
I kept replaying our conversation.
“I’m trying to give you something I should have given you a long time ago.”
At the time, I had heard that as an explanation for the money.
Now it sounded different.
He had not said he was buying something for me.
He had said he was trying to give me something.
Information, maybe.
Proof, certainly.
Something connected to old adoption records.
