Chapter 17 - The Red Toy Car Years later, Olivia became an adult.
She kept the little red toy car.
The paint was scratched.
One wheel didn't move correctly.
Nobody else understood why she had saved it.
One evening, she placed it on Stallone's coffee table.
“You still have this?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Why?”
She smiled.
“Because it reminds me that someone came back for me.”
Stallone looked down.
“I wasn't a hero.”
“I know.”
He laughed.
“That's not very flattering.”
“You're old.”
“There it is.”
She laughed.
Then became quiet.
“Grandpa?”
“Yeah?”
“I used to think the important part of that day was what happened to me.”
He waited.
“Now I think the important part was what everyone did afterward.”
Stallone nodded.
“That took you a long time to understand.”
“I'm sixteen.”
“You're not sixteen anymore.”
“I know.”
She smiled.
“That's why I understand it now.”
The red car sat between them.
Small.
Worn.
Imperfect.
May you like
But still moving when pushed.
Just like the family.
