The Banjo They Said I Could Forgive

Dana ran out in her robe. “Where’s the Audi,” she demanded. I pointed at the river. “Under the water,” I said. Her mouth fell open. “You put his car in the river,” she said. “I applied the lesson,” I told her.

My parents arrived next, both still in robes, faces stunned. “Emmett,” my mother said, “have you lost your mind.” My father looked at me like he’d never seen me before. “What is wrong with you,” he asked.

I looked around at all of them, calm and systematic. “Yesterday Beau destroyed something I spent years saving for, something I use to make my living. You told me it was just a banjo. You told me I could get another one. You told me family forgives, and that I was being childish for feeling anything about it.” I gestured at the river, where the bubbles were still breaking the surface. “So I let Roy’s car go. I applied your lesson. We’re even now.”

Roy pulled out his phone, hands shaking so badly he nearly dropped it. “I’m calling the police,” he said. “Go ahead,” I said. “When they get here, I’ll file a report about Beau destroying my banjo, and about how you told a nine-year-old to test whether it was real. That’s a serious problem for you, especially when a grown man uses a child to destroy somebody’s property.”

Dana went pale and grabbed the phone out of Roy’s hand. “Don’t call. Please don’t call.” He stared at her. “He sank my car,” he said. “And you helped destroy my banjo,” I said. “So call. Let’s both explain ourselves.” He lowered his arm slowly. Neither of them could risk it.

My father tried to step between us. “Both of you need to calm down,” he said. “I am calm, Dad,” I told him. He didn’t have an answer for that.

I walked to my truck and pulled the case with what was left of the Vega out of the back seat. Roy was already back on his phone with the insurance company, frantic. “It went in the river,” he was saying. “The whole car. No, I don’t know how.”

My mother followed me to the truck. “Where are you going.” “Home.” “Emmett, please.” I looked at her. “Thanks for the lesson,” I said. “What lesson,” she asked, confused. “You taught me exactly how this family handles someone destroying expensive property. I’m a fast learner.”

My father drew his line in the driveway. “If you leave now, you’re choosing to end this family.” “No, Dad,” I said. “You chose yesterday, when you sided with a nine-year-old over me.” I got in the truck. Dana was crying by then. “We still owe ninety-one thousand on that car loan.” I started the engine. “It’s just money. You can earn more. That’s what you told me, right?”

I backed down the driveway. In the mirror I could see Roy shouting into his phone, Dana sobbing with her hands pressed over her face, my parents standing frozen, and Beau wandering outside looking at all the crying adults. “Why is everyone mad,” he asked. Nobody answered him. I drove out of that yard and left them standing in a mess they had built entirely themselves.

Two hours later I was home in Nashville and my phone would not stop ringing. Dana. My mother. My father. Roy. I blocked every number, made coffee, and finally got some quiet, until an unknown number got through. Roy’s voice came out shaking but determined. “We’re getting the car out,” he said. “Crane’s four thousand eight hundred. Tow’s another nine hundred.” I laughed before I could stop myself. “You left the windows down, remember. Water damage. Engine, electronics, interior. Even if they pull it out, it’s finished.” His voice cracked. “You knew that,” he asked. “Yeah,” I said, and hung up.