Consider it a lesson in being careful of what you wish for.”
“Joe, please. You have to take it back.
I can’t handle this.”
For a moment, I hesitated.
But then I recalled all the times Kyle turned his back on us, all the lonely nights Dad spent wondering why his eldest son never showed up.
“I’m sorry, Kyle,” I said, feeling no remorse at all. “But you wanted the house. It’s yours now, along with all its responsibilities.
Maybe spending time with those kids will teach you something about family.”
“But the money,” Kyle pleaded weakly.
“I wanted that house as collateral for a loan. I thought I could fix everything.”
“Oh, why didn’t you just ask for help?”
“Because I’m supposed to be the successful one!” he shouted, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“I couldn’t admit I was failing.”
For a moment, I glimpsed the brother I once knew — scared, vulnerable, and human.
But I also recalled the years of neglect and the sadness in Dad’s eyes each time Kyle missed a holiday or birthday.
“Listen, Kyle, I can’t take the house back. But maybe we can come up with a solution.
Come over tomorrow.
We’ll talk.”
There was a long pause before Kyle replied, his voice barely a whisper. “Okay. Thank you, Joe.”
After hanging up, I surveyed my small farmhouse.
It wasn’t much, but it was mine.
And soon, a group of kids would receive the playhouse of their dreams. Dad would have adored that.
I smiled, anticipating the conversation with Kyle.
It wouldn’t be simple, but perhaps we could begin to mend our family ties. After all, that was what Dad would have wanted.
And in the end, that was all that truly mattered.
