My parents came to stay with us for the weekend.
That evening, while Dad was looking for aspirin in the bathroom cabinet, he found a bottle of prescription pills.
He walked into the kitchen holding it.
“What are these?”
I nearly choked on my coffee.
I explained what they were and quickly added, “Dad, you probably shouldn’t take one without talking to your doctor.”
He waved me off.
“How much do they cost?”
“About ten dollars each.”
Dad thought for a second.
“I still want one. I’ll leave the money under my pillow before we go.”
I assumed he was joking.
Apparently, he wasn’t.
The next morning, after my parents left, I went into the guest room.
There was cash underneath Dad’s pillow.
But instead of ten dollars, there was $110.
I immediately called him.
“Dad, I said ten dollars for one pill. You left way too much money.”
There was silence for a second.
Then he started laughing.
“I know exactly how much it costs.”
“Then why did you leave $110?”
Dad lowered his voice like he was sharing a secret.
“The ten dollars was from me.”
I waited.
“And the other hundred?”
He laughed even harder.
“That was from your mother.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh, hang up, or pretend the entire conversation had never happened.
Mom apparently heard the whole thing in the background because I suddenly heard her yell:
“STOP TELLING HIM OUR BUSINESS!”
Dad laughed for another thirty seconds.
I never asked about it again.
And after that weekend, I started keeping certain medications somewhere Dad couldn’t accidentally discover them.
