“I have one last wish.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
My mother had raised me alone.
“Pretend you are my daughter until I am gone.”
I stared at him.
Nathan turned toward the rain-streaked window.
“Life separated me from my little girl before she was born. I never got to know her.”
My mother had raised me alone.
Nathan’s request should have unsettled me.
She never told me who my father was. After she died, I found no photographs or documents that revealed his identity.
She only ever said he had chosen fear instead of us.
Nathan’s request should have unsettled me.
Instead, it touched the oldest wound I carried.
I forced a smile.
Nathan laughed until he started coughing.
“Well then, hello, Dad.”
Nathan laughed until he started coughing.
I reached toward the call button.
“Do not ruin my first minute as a father.”
“You are already demanding.”
For six weeks, we built a borrowed little family.
“I have lost time to make up for.”
For six weeks, we built a borrowed little family.
I brought him coffee. He saved crossword clues for me. I wheeled him through the garden while he criticized flowers he had never planted.
The hospice approved two outings after Nathan signed the necessary medical releases.
The manager greeted him by name.
The first trip was to Millie’s Diner.
The manager greeted him by name.
“Good to see you, Nate.”
Nathan shrugged when I glanced at him.
“I used to work here.”
A waitress placed his coffee on the table without asking.
We sat together in a corner booth.
A waitress placed his coffee on the table without asking.
He ordered two slices of apple pie.
“Expecting company?” I asked.
“I dislike making decisions.”
Our second outing was to the ocean.
People sometimes assumed I was his daughter.
I helped him across the sand. He slipped off his shoes, pressed his feet into the shore, and closed his eyes.
“Worth it?” I asked.
“Ask me when I can’t stand.”
People sometimes assumed I was his daughter.
Nathan always answered before I had the chance.
“She is.”
Each time he said it, warmth settled inside me, followed by guilt.
I knew we were only pretending.
Still, after years spent caring for my mother and always being needed, I liked being chosen.
Nathan grew weaker quickly.
“Was I convincing?”
On my last visit, he could barely keep his eyes open.
“Was I convincing?” he asked.
“As a father?”
“As someone worth remembering.”
