TESSA

“Write something nice. He didn’t have to do this.”

Mom set the blank thank-you card on the kitchen counter next to the tuition check. Thick cream stock. His name already printed on the envelope in her handwriting. The check was made out for the full semester. Campus housing. Books. The number was big enough that my stomach tightened just looking at it.

“He’s in the study,” she said, already turning back to the stove. “Door stays open until the card is done. Then you take it to him and get his signature. Be polite.”

I picked up the pen.

The house was quiet except for the clock and the...