The Agreement My Stepfather Hid

Forty-five. It should be the age when a man is at his steadiest, the age when he finally gets to enjoy the warmth of a family. I had finally found solid footing in this second-tier city, saved up enough for a down payment, and I wanted to buy a heated apartment with an elevator for my stepfather, the man who had hauled cement on construction sites and sold his blood three times to put me through my doctorate. But before I could ever place the keys to that new place into his old, callused hands.