“My father barely noticed me,” he said. “I promised myself my kids would think I was different.”
His shoulders dropped.
“Somewhere along the way, people thinking I’m a good father became enough for me.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That became more important than actually being one.”
Richard looked at the floor.
I did not comfort him.
“Becoming a better father doesn’t erase what you’ve done to me.”
“The kids don’t need another bike. They need you to know them.”
He nodded once.
“What do I do?”
“Start showing up when nobody is watching.”
Then I put the knife down.
“But understand something. Becoming a better father doesn’t erase what you’ve done to me, and it doesn’t guarantee that we’re staying married.”
Over the following weeks, I stopped carrying every part of his relationship with the children for him.
He looked up.
“This isn’t a bargain, Richard. You don’t earn me by taking the kids to school. They’re your children. You should know them whether I stay or leave.”
