Children’s Day was coming up in a few days. I figured I'd use the event as an opportunity to speak with Milton face-to-face to end things properly. But I didn’t expect him to back out at the last minute, claiming something came up at the university. He bailed on the performance our daughter had practiced for weeks.
Still, I didn’t want her effort and excitement to be wasted. So after settling her in at the venue, I went to speak with the director. I asked them to switch from live piano to a pre-recorded accompaniment, something to fill the silence Milton left behind.
When I returned, I saw my daughter sitting alone in the audience. She looked so quiet, completely out of place amid the laughter and chatter of the other kids. At first, I assumed she was just being shy. I crouched beside her, gently encouraging her to join in.
She glanced at me but didn’t move. So I smiled and took her hand, guiding her over.
“Hi there,” I said to the group of children nearby, “Can we join you guys?”
But one boy turned to us with a smug grin and said, “I don’t want to play with someone who doesn’t even have a dad!”
The others giggled and chimed in, “Just admit it! You don’t have a dad!”