Chapter 25 - MY DAD
Mason lost in the conference final.
Tyler missed the last shot.
Long.
Back rim.
Season over.
No inspirational miracle.
No perfect ending.
He sat in the locker room with a towel over his head.
Twenty minutes passed.
Then Coach Knox stopped beside him.
“You coming out?”
Tyler shook his head.
“Eventually.”
Coach nodded.
“Don't live here.”
Tyler looked up.
“What?”
“In the miss.”
Coach pointed toward the court.
“You can visit it.”
Then toward the door.
“Don't live there.”
Tyler sat another five minutes.
Then left.
Michael waited in the hallway.
No speech.
No basketball analysis.
Just two vending-machine sandwiches.
He handed one to Tyler.
Tyler looked at it.
“This looks terrible.”
“It was six dollars.”
“That's criminal.”
“College athletics.”
Tyler laughed despite himself.
They walked outside.
Cold night.
Emptying parking lot.
Michael opened his truck.
Tyler stopped.
“Dad.”
Michael looked over.
“I got something.”
Tyler pulled a folded paper from his jacket.
Michael read it.
CARTER FLOORING.
New logo.
New website mockup.
A marketing plan Tyler had built for one of his business classes.
Michael looked up.
“No.”
Tyler blinked.
“You didn't even read it.”
“I saw the words social media.”
“Dad.”
“No dancing.”
“Nobody said dancing.”
“No inspirational videos.”
“Fine.”
“No filming me eating.”
“Why would I—”
“And absolutely no ‘Built Different.’”
Tyler stared.
Then started laughing.
Michael did too.
Tyler took the paper back.
“It's just a website.”
Michael looked at him.
“You want to help?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Tyler understood the question.
Not because Michael couldn't afford help.
Not because Tyler owed him.
Not because guilt required payment.
Tyler thought for a moment.
“Because I'm good at it.”
Michael nodded.
“Okay.”
They climbed into the truck.
Two weeks later, Carter Flooring launched its new site.
Simple.
No emotional story.
No cafeteria.
No basketball.
Just floors.
Crews.
Projects.
Phone number.
At the bottom of the About page was one photograph.
Michael standing beside Tyler.
Work clothes.
No Mason jersey.
No cafeteria uniform.
No staged smiles.
Rachel had taken it outside the garage.
The caption had been Tyler's idea.
Michael argued about it for ten minutes.
Then allowed it.
It said:
MICHAEL CARTER — OWNER.
TYLER CARTER — HIS SON.
Nothing else.
Months later, a freshman at Mason stopped Tyler outside the arena.
“Hey.”
Tyler turned.
The kid looked nervous.
“My dad does maintenance here.”
Tyler waited.
“He wears the gray uniform.”
“Okay.”
The freshman looked at the ground.
“Some guys joke about it.”
Tyler understood immediately.
The kid asked:
“Did that ever bother you?”
Tyler thought about lying.
About giving him a perfect lesson.
About saying he'd learned everything.
Instead he said:
“Yeah.”
The freshman looked up.
Tyler continued.
“It bothered me a lot.”
“What changed?”
Tyler looked across the plaza.
Michael's truck had just pulled in.
He was visiting for the weekend.
Work boots.
Carter Flooring jacket.
Coffee in one hand.
Michael spotted him.
Raised the cup.
Tyler raised his hand back.
Then looked at the freshman.
“I figured out whose problem it was.”
The kid frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Tyler nodded toward Michael.
“That's my dad.”
The freshman looked.
Tyler smiled.
“If somebody has a problem with what he does for work…”
He shrugged.
“…that's their problem.”
Michael reached them.
“Who's this?”
Tyler looked at him.
Then at the freshman.
“My dad.”
No hesitation.
No shame.
No explanation.
May you like
Just the truth.
And this time, that was enough.
