He said red was the color of freedom. Since I didn’t have a driver’s license, it sat in the garage without a plate. Now, it belonged to Beatrice.
Before leaving, Beatrice sat in the passenger seat, rolled down the window and gave me a provocative smile from the villa entrance.
She said to my brother in a playful voice, “Brother, this car is beautiful! Too bad Mom and Dad didn’t give it to our sister. With her temper, she’d probably crash it.”
My brother didn’t argue and just said, “Sit tight.”
I stopped in front of the car and looked at my brother. “Brother, one last time. This car was given to me by Grandpa, right?” I searched his eyes for any sign of the old warmth.
My brother avoided my eyes and honked irritably. “Why bring up the past? Move! Behave and I’ll buy you anything from now on!”
He thought money could fix everything, not knowing some things were priceless. I nodded with a strange smile. “Okay, I won’t bring it up.”
I stepped back, pretending to move and pointed at the car. “It’s dusty. Let me clean it. It’s your new car.”
My brother was startled, likely thinking I had finally given in.
His tense face relaxed and he sighed. “Okay, that’s enough. Let’s go back.”