During a visit a few weeks later, I found the box open but the game unplayed. The chessmen were all inside, still wrapped. Dad’s claims: Defective, incomplete, missing pieces, no instructions.
I investigated: All untrue. Everything was there.
Dad couldn’t admit he didn’t know how to play. Instead, he manufactured reasons to reject my gift.
Next visit, I again looked inside the box. In addition to the game Dad had abandoned, I discovered something: Pieces of me, still wrapped.