Amelia was upstairs helping the children prepare for bed when someone knocked.
I opened the door and found my parents standing on the porch.
They looked smaller than I remembered.
My father’s hair had turned almost completely gray. My mother wore an old coat I recognized from years earlier. Neither of them carried the confidence that had once filled every room they entered.
“Daniel,” my father said.
I stared at them.
My mother attempted a smile.
“May we come in?”
For a moment, I considered saying no.
Then I stepped aside.
They entered slowly and looked around our home. Their eyes moved over the family photographs, the children’s drawings, and the framed newspaper article about Amelia’s center.
My father sat on the edge of the sofa.
“Son, you’re doing remarkably well,” he said. “I’m pleased for you.”
There was something unnatural in his tone.
I had spent years in sales. I knew when someone was preparing to make a request.
“You’re after money, aren’t you?” I asked.
They exchanged a glance.
My mother gave a nervous laugh.
“We wouldn’t phrase it like that.”
“How would you phrase it?”
My father exhaled.
“We’ve had a difficult few years. The stores are gone, but we have an opportunity to start again. A smaller operation. More manageable.”
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
The number hung in the room.
My mother leaned forward.
“It would only be a loan. Once we’re back on our feet, we’ll repay you.”
I thought about the years they had ignored birthdays, anniversaries, and the births of their grandchildren.
I remembered Amelia packing her suitcase because my mother had convinced her she was ruining my life.
I remembered the empty chairs at our wedding.
Then an idea came to me.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll give you the money.”
Their faces brightened.
“But there is one condition.”
My father frowned.
“What condition?”
“You will spend the next three months volunteering at Amelia’s center.”
My mother’s smile vanished.
“You want us to work there?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because ten years ago, you judged Amelia without understanding anything about her. You believed scars made her unsuitable for your world. Before I help you rebuild your business, you’re going to spend time with the people you once considered beneath you.”
My father looked offended.
“You’re humiliating us.”
“No,” I said calmly. “I’m giving you a chance to understand the humiliation Amelia endured when you looked at her as if she were something unpleasant.”
My mother stood.
“This is revenge.”
“If I wanted revenge, I would simply send you away.”
At that moment, Amelia appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
She had heard everything.
My parents turned toward her.
For the first time in ten years, the three of them stood in the same room.
Amelia’s voice was quiet.
“You don’t have to do this, Daniel.”
“I know.”
She looked at my parents.
“You would be treated with respect at the center. No one would know about our history unless you chose to tell them.”
My father stared at the floor.
My mother’s eyes remained fixed on Amelia’s scars.
But this time, her expression wasn’t disgust.
It was shame.
“We need time to think,” my father said.
“You have until Friday,” I replied.
They left without saying goodbye.
