For eight years, my neighbor drove my father, who was blind, to all his "doctor's appointments" – After my father's funeral, he told me, "He made me promise to tell you where we were really going."

"I don't trust you yet."

We understand.

Dad had prepared both versions.

Claire looked at Ben for a long time.

"I can't pretend everything is settled," she said. "I don't trust you yet."

Ben nodded.

She clutched the letter to her chest.

"You don't have to, for now."

She clutched the letter to her chest.

"A phone call on Thursday. Start with that."

"I will do it."

On the way back, Ben apologized for taking my payments after Thursdays became a personal matter.

Dad had manipulated us both to the very end.

"Ah yes. I had forgotten that detail. Why did you continue to take the payments?"

Ben smiled at me.

"Your father said you'd be suspicious if we changed the terms."

He was right.

I stared at the windshield.

Ben began to defend himself.

Dad had manipulated us both to the very end.

"Don't think you'll get anything more out of it," I said with a small, mocking smile.

Ben started to defend himself, trying to make me believe that he had never wanted that money.

I raised one hand.

"You didn't do anything wrong. You still took care of my father. It's just that Thursday trips aren't really your thing anymore."

"Your father wouldn't agree to that."

Ben remained silent for several miles.

Then he said, "Your father wouldn't agree to that."

"My father is no longer in charge."

Ben turned towards me.

"Do you really believe that?"

The following Thursday, I was still at Dad's house, sorting through tools and shirts that smelled of him.

I thought back to the envelope, the postcards, and the path that had led me here.

" No. "

The following Thursday, I was still at Dad's house, sorting through tools and shirts that smelled of him.

At nine o'clock, tires squealed outside.

Ben arrived out of habit, then froze when he saw me waiting under the porch.

Ben looked at Dad's empty window, then picked up a cup.

I had two cups of coffee in my hand.

"I suppose the royal carriage still runs on Thursdays," I said.

Ben looked at Dad's empty window, then picked up a cup.

"The carriage looks empty right now."

"Well, if you want, we can go for a walk later," I said, smiling.

Ben passed by the library, the bakery, and his father's office.

"Ah, what would be the point? You'd just get annoyed by all my descriptions. Besides, I'm not very good company."

"I think you underestimate my ability to put up with stubborn old men," I said, laughing.

We finished our drinks and went for a drive without a specific destination.

Ben passed by the library, the bakery, and his father's office.

At every turn, he almost spoke.

Claire's name appeared on the dashboard.

Then his phone rang through the car speakers.

Claire's name appeared on the dashboard.

On Thursday, right on time, she was waiting for you.

Ben reached for the button, stopped, then began to murmur the introduction he had prepared.

I touched his wrist.

He held back his tears and nodded.

"No rehearsal."

He held back his tears and nodded.

Ben pressed the reply button.

"Hi, Claire," he said.

His voice was trembling, but he said it anyway…

The car seemed empty for a second.

Claire said, "Hi, Dad."

Ben exhaled as if he had been holding his breath for years.

I looked at the passenger seat where my father should have been.

The car seemed empty for a second.

While the two of them were talking, I took out my father's letter one last time.

I hope he would be proud to have taught me how to be of service.