The Model Car

The Model Car

            It still sits on top of my dresser.  I polish it every year on my birthday and remember the fun times that we had together.  It is a red, toy model of a Nissan 240SX sports car that my dad and I built together the day he left Mom and me. 

            It was the month before I started fourth grade, and I was excited because it was my birthday.  Dad had lost his job at the old automobile factory a month ago, and he and Mom were fighting more often.  However, each time I had asked him if things were alright, Dad had always told me not to worry.  He assured me that things would get better once he found a new job, and we were back on our feet again.  I knew that money was scarce, so I wasn’t expecting much for my birthday, but it still felt great to be older.

            As I expected, my birthday party wasn’t a big event.  We didn’t invite anyone.  It was just Mom, Dad, and me, but I didn’t mind.  Mom and Dad were trying to get along for my sake, and Mom had made my favorite dish, spaghetti with meatballs.  She had taken special care to bake me a cake and decorate it with colored balloons of icing.  After I blew out the candles of the cake, Dad brought out a neatly wrapped package decorated with balloons on the outside.  I really wasn’t expecting anything for my birthday, so I was both surprised and excited to see the package.  Eagerly I tore away at the wrapping paper.  Inside was a box with a picture of a red, Nissan 240SX on the front.  It was a model toy car. 

            “I hope you like it.  I thought we could put it together,” Dad said as he smiled.

            I nodded and hugged him and Mom and thanked them.

            For the next few days, Dad and I worked on the toy model car.  When we finally put the last bits of paint on the car, Dad and I held it up and admired it.

            “Beautiful, isn’t she?” Dad said to me.  I smiled and nodded.

            Just then, Mom threw open the garage door.  We both turned to look at her.

            “I’ve been trying to find you for the last twenty minutes!” she yelled at Dad.

            “I told you I would be in here with Brad,” Dad said to her.

            He turned to me, smiled, and said, “Good job, Son.  Go make us some ice, cold lemonade.  I’ll be there in a minute.”  I left to go make the lemonade, but I could still hear him and Mom arguing from the garage.