Father's Day: A Slap In Public

heavy, not because of the expensive Scotch inside, but because of the fragile relationship it represented. I was an archi

elegant, and it was the last thing she left me before she died. My father had asked to keep it for a while, saying it reminded hi

downstairs. Before I could dial, my phone rang. The name on the screen was "Brenda

what do y

atory, completely skipping an

irs. I came to see D

snapped. "And I know why you're

ed. "The watch was my mothe

ve it to me. He said I've taken such good care of him, much better t

ridiculous. It's not his to giv

and I'm calling the police for tresp

. I immediately called my father. He picked up on

going on? Brenda

g about? Why is she sayi

the sound of him avoiding a problem. "Olivia, calm down. Brenda.

t was Mom's. It belongs to me. Are you goi

could hear Brenda's voice

said. "Let's not fight on Father's Day

so did the last bit of hope I had for a peaceful day. The gift in

arent-teacher art fair. Lily was so proud, her little painting of a sun and a rainbow was hanging on the w

I saw

crowd. Chad was a man in his late twenties with a permanently sullen loo

chatter of the school gymnasium. "There's the ungrateful

with shame. Lily, who had been happily showing her drawing

or the place," I said, my vo

, a smirk on his face, his arms crossed. "You come to our home, you try to take things

wants to take the last gift her father ever gave me. He' s a struggling artist, all alone, and I'

t to faint. She was putting on a performance, and the other parents were her ca