had been putting money away for decades — since Eric was a teenager, it turned out — into an account labeled, in Dad’s own hand, for the art school he’d refused to allow. He’d spent Eric’s whole childhood saying no to the bright thing, and spent Eric’s whole adulthood secretly saving so that one day the answer could finally be yes.
“I was wrong to stop you,” the letter said. “I’ve known it for thirty years. I was too proud to admit it while I could still look you in the eye,
