Charles stayed longer than I expected.
After everyone finished lunch, I assumed he would thank everyone and head home, but instead, he gathered the empty containers and carried them toward the kitchen.
“You don’t have to clean up.” I told him.
“I know.” He said.
“Then why are you doing it?” I asked.
“Because I brought the food.” He said.
“That does not mean you have to clean the workshop.” I said.
“I know that too.” He said.
I watched him continue collecting trash and empty bottles, and there was something strange about seeing my father move around Lawson Customs like he belonged there.
For most of my life, I had imagined him outside my world because although he had been my father, he had never really been part of the things that mattered to me.
Now he was standing inside the wo
