Finding Cinderella Maybe Someday

Me: He got snipped a few hours ago. Took it like a champ.
Ian: Ouch. I’m coming to meet him tonight. I’ll be there
after seven.
Me: See you then.
My father is walking toward me with two coffees in his
hands, so I slide my phone into my back pocket.
He hands me one of the coffees.
“He looks like you,” he says.
He’s trying to accept it.
“Well, I look just like you,” I say. “Cheers to strong genes.”
I hold my coffee up, and my dad bumps his against it,
smiling.
He’s trying.
He leans against the wall for support and looks down at his
coffee. He wants to say something, but it’s hard for him.
“What is it?” I ask, giving him the opening he needs. He lifts
his eyes from their focus on the coffee, and he meets my
gaze.
“I’m proud of you,” he says with sincerity.
It’s a simple statement.
Four words.
Four of the most impactful words I’ve ever heard.

---

“Of course, it’s not what I wanted for you. No one wants to
see his son become a dad at the age of eighteen, but . . .
I’m proud of you. For how you’ve handled it. For how you’ve
treated Rachel.” He smiles. “You made the best of a difficult
situation, and that’s honestly more than most adults would
do.”
I smile. I tell him thank you.
I think the conversation is over, but it’s not.
“Miles,” he says, wanting to add more. “About Lisa . . . and
your mom?”
I hold my hand up to stop him. I don’t want to have this
conversation today. I don’t want this day to become his
defense for what he did to my mother.
“It’s fine, Dad. We’ll discuss it another time.”
He tells me no. He says he needs to discuss it with me now.
He tells me it’s important.
I want to tell him it’s not important.
I want to tell him Clayton is important.
I want to focus on Clayton and Rachel and forget all about
the fact that my father is human and makes awful choices
like the rest of us.
But I don’t say any of that.
I listen.
Because he’s my father.

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chapter twenty-nine