“She’s at work.”
I stood.
“Who?”
Lily shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie.
“Mom, before we go, there’s something else.”
I waited.
“The seventeen names aren’t the whole story.”
“What does that mean?”
Her eyes filled again.
“It means I found seventeen Fridays of my own.”
Mrs. Patel grabbed her keys.
“Come with me.”
She drove us across town.
The person Lily wanted me to meet was a nineteen-year-old girl named Tara.
She was halfway through her first week working at an auto-repair shop.
When Lily entered, Tara smiled.
“Car day?”
Lily stopped.
“Not yet.”
Tara looked at me.
Then back at Lily.
Her smile disappeared.
“No.”
Lily looked down.
Tara stepped closer.
“Tell me you didn’t use your car money.”
Silence.
Then Tara started crying.
She had been accepted into an apprenticeship that started at six every morning.
The bus from the temporary room where she was staying didn’t run early enough.
If she missed shifts, she would lose the job before receiving her first paycheck.
Lily had spent a little more than $1,100 helping her.
Required work boots.
A used bicycle.
And a short-term room close enough to the repair shop that Tara could get to work.
Tara had needed the most money.
The rest of Lily’s savings had been divided in smaller amounts among sixteen other people.
Bus passes.
Work clothes.
Phone service.
Meals.
Seventeen people altogether.
Tara wiped her face.
“I’ll pay you back.”
Lily shook her head.
“Don’t.”
“Lily…”
“Help somebody else get to Friday.”
I had to turn away.
On the drive home, I finally asked the question that had been bothering me most.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Lily stared through the window.
“Because you would’ve helped.”
“Of course I would have.”
“I know.”
She looked at me.
“That’s why I couldn’t tell you. I needed to know if I could do it myself.”
“Why?”
Her eyes dropped.
“Because Dad can’t anymore.”
For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.
Then she added quietly,
“I just wanted to know whether I could do one thing he would recognize.”
I reached across the console.
Then stopped myself.
Lily had made her choice.
I wasn’t going to punish her for caring about people.
But I also wasn’t going to erase the consequences of giving away months of hard-earned savings without telling me.
“What you did matters,” I said. “But secretly giving away four thousand dollars and telling me afterward is not something we’re going to make a habit of.”
Lily nodded.
“Your father helped people quietly too. Apparently, you inherited that part.”
A tiny smile appeared.
Then I continued.
“The three thousand dollars I promised toward your car stays saved. When you earn your portion again, we’ll start shopping.”
“Okay.”
“And next time you decide somebody needs work boots, you tell me first.”
She laughed.
That evening, Lily sat at the kitchen table scrolling through used-car listings again.
Michael’s old HOME keychain rested beside her phone.
Still empty.
I looked over.
“Starting again?”
“Yep.”
“Any regrets?”
She thought for a moment.
“I regret that cars cost four thousand dollars.”
I laughed.
Then she looked at the photo she had taken of Mrs. Patel’s index card.
Michael’s sixteen names on the front.
Her seventeen on the back.
She tapped the screen once.
“I don’t regret seventeen.”
I slid Michael’s empty keychain a little closer to her.
Lily picked it up and turned the metal HOME tag between her fingers.
Then she went back to searching for cars.
The key ring remained empty.
For now.
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