He looked worn out—grief too heavy for someone so young. I invited him in. He handed me a small wooden box he’d made.
“I was going to give this to Ben… I want you to have it.”
Inside were mementos: Ben’s hospital bracelet, a photo of the two boys laughing, and a handwritten note that read: “Thanks for being the best friend ever.”
From then on, every Tuesday, Daniel came by. We’d sit in my kitchen, remembering Ben. We laughed. We cried. Sometimes, we just sat in silence.
“Tell me about the time you two got detention,” I asked him once.
Daniel grinned. “Ben wanted to surprise you with flowers for your birthday, so we snuck out during lunch. Got caught crawling back through the gym window.”
“He never told me that part.”
“He said it would ruin the surprise.”
One day, Daniel mentioned working part-time at the hardware store.
“College might not happen,” he said, stirring his coffee. “Mom’s struggling since Dad left. I’ve got to help at home.”
My heart broke for him.
“What would you study?”
His eyes lit up. “Engineering. Or art. Ben always said I’d be good at both.”
“He was right,” I said quietly.
That night, I remembered my promise to Ben. And I decided it was time to fulfill it.
A week later, I joined my family for dinner at my sister Rebecca’s house. Everything seemed normal until she asked, “Scott, what are you doing with Ben’s college fund?”
The room fell silent.
I set down my fork. “I’m giving it to Daniel.”
Rebecca’s jaw dropped. “Who?”
