My father arrived on a Friday afternoon with the same controlled energy he brought to every evaluation. He stepped out of the rental car in a pressed shirt and looked at the campus the way he looked at balance sheets. Assessing. Measuring whether the investment still made sense.
I met him outside the science building. He kissed my cheek once and asked about my grades before he asked how I was. Excellent. On track. Confirmed for graduate applications. He nodded like the answers were the only ones that mattered.
“Dr. Caldwell will join us for dinner,” he said. “He is an old colleague. I thought it would be useful for him to see the quality of work you are producing here.”
Useful. The word sat between us like a quiet test. I smiled the way I always smiled for him. The version of me that ne
