“I’m sorry I involved Tyler.”
Walter nodded.
Better.
“I thought if he had the car, he’d finally feel like I had done something for him.”
Walter looked confused.
“You did plenty for him.”
“You don’t know.”
“No.”
“His father left.”
“I know.”
“He barely calls.”
“I know.”
“Tyler worshiped that Camaro.”
Walter said nothing.
Evelyn continued.
“I couldn’t give him the life his friends had.”
“You lived in Ridgecrest Meadows.”
“That doesn’t mean what you think.”
She looked toward the table.
“My ex-husband paid support late.”
“I used credit cards.”
“I borrowed against the house.”
“Every year Tyler wanted things I couldn’t afford.”
Walter listened.
Then said:
“So you decided you were entitled to mine.”
Evelyn’s face hardened.
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s exact.”
Silence.
“You wanted to give your son something expensive.”
“You didn’t want to hear no.”
“So you created yes on paper.”
Evelyn began crying.
Walter felt pity.
That irritated him.
Pity did not rewrite facts.
“I never thought it would go this far.”
He nodded.
“That is usually what people mean after they’ve spent years seeing how far something can go.”
Her attorney looked toward him.
Walter ignored it.
Evelyn whispered:
“Do you hate me?”
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“I don’t know you well enough.”
That hurt her more than anger probably would have.
Walter continued.
“I knew the HOA president.”
“The woman who complained about my car.”
“The neighbor who waved when I walked in the morning.”
“I did not know the person creating fake fees.”
Evelyn wiped her face.
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Nothing.”
“Then why come?”
Walter thought.
“Because Tyler asked me to.”
Her face changed.
“He did?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He thought you needed to hear that I don’t blame him for what you did.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
That was the real consequence.
Not the Camaro.
Not court.
Her son had separated himself from her actions.
Tyler moved out of Evelyn’s house six weeks after the incident.
He rented a small apartment closer to the community college and increased his hours at the auto-parts store. Walter heard about it from another neighbor but did nothing.
Then one Saturday, Tyler appeared at Walter’s driveway.
No sunglasses.
No swagger.
He stood several feet from the Camaro.
“Can I talk to you?”
Walter looked under the hood.
“Sure.”
Tyler kept his hands in his pockets.
That detail amused Walter.
“You’re allowed to touch the car.”
Tyler smiled weakly.