Rapidfeed

Chapter 10 - The Strength of Iron

At nine o'clock, the crowd began to thin out.

I walked out to the small brick courtyard behind the gallery, where my father was sitting on a wooden bench beneath a young maple tree, smoking his evening cigarette.

The night air was warm, carrying the scent of fresh rain and lilac blossoms.

I sat down beside him, resting my head against his heavy, canvas-covered shoulder.

"Good crowd tonight, mija," my dad said softly, his voice low and steady as the hum of a good engine.

"Yeah," I whispered, looking up at the stars peeking through the city lights. "It was a really good crowd."

"Nadia sold three of those heavy steel pieces," he added, a hint of pride in his voice. "Some guy from the museum bought the big one with the copper welds. Said it had 'soul.'"

I laughed, wrapping my arm through his. "Nadia almost threw him out because he called it 'rustic.'"

My dad let out a soft, deep chuckle that shook his chest.

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small, heavy object wrapped in oil paper, and handed it to me.

"What's this?" I asked, unwrapping the paper.

Inside lay a small, beautifully polished brass nut—the exact same kind of nut he used to give me when I was eight years old during thunderstorms in Belmont Cragin. But this one had been carefully stamped around the outer rim with capital letters:

WILLA REYES — BUILT FROM IRON.

I held the small piece of brass in my palm, feeling its weight, its smooth edges, its solid warmth.

"Whenever you feel like things are breaking, Willa," my dad said, looking out at the bright windows of our gallery, "you just hold onto that. Remember who built you."

I looked at my father—the man who had worked forty years with dirty hands so I could stand on my own feet; the man who had walked into a luxury hotel terrace without fear, ready to tear down an empire to protect his daughter.

May you like

I leaned over, kissed his calloused cheek, and held the brass nut tightly in my hand.

"I know who built me, Dad," I whispered, looking toward the light. "And I'm never letting go."

Other posts