My Biological Father Left Us When I Was Three – Then Reappeared on My 17th Birthday to Outshine My Stepdad With His Present

I'd imagined freedom.

And the car looked incredible. Black paint gleaming in the sun. Brand-new interior. Not somebody's old hand-me-down, but the kind of car I'd never even let myself imagine owning.

For a second, I wanted those keys badly.

But then all I could see was Ray in old work boots.

Ray postponing repairs on the truck he needed to get to work.

Five dollars.

Fifteen.

Forty.

Whatever he had.

My father pushed the keys toward me.

"You deserve something nice."

I took them.

Relief crossed his face.

Then I closed his fingers around them.

I looked at Ray.

"I wanted a dad for 14."

Nobody moved.

I looked back at my father.

"I'm not waiting anymore."

"You're choosing him?"

"No."

I shook my head.