And that’s when my father did the thing I’ll think about for the rest of my life.
Kaylee had given him the rose. She’d put it in his hand the second they stopped at center court. The same way the other girls had given theirs to their parents.
He’d been holding it against his cane.
He waited until Kaylee stepped back from Travis.
Then he held the rose out. Stem first. To my husband.
Travis looked at it.
He didn’t take it.
He shook his head a little. Like he was telling Dad no. That’s yours. You earned it. You walked the whole way.
My father didn’t lower his arm.
He just kept holding it out. Patient. The same way he used to hold out a bottle to a stubborn calf until it decided on its own.
The gym had gone so quiet, I was close enough to hear what he said.
“I already raised mine, son,” my father said. “This one’s yours.”
Travis took the rose.
My father touched the brim of his seed corn cap to Kaylee. Like a man saying good morning at the co-op.
Then he turned around. He planted the cane. And he started back across that floor by himself.
Somebody went out to help him. One of the JV girls. A sophomore I didn’t know.
He let her walk beside him. But he didn’t take her arm.
He made it all the way to the end of the bleachers on his own.
Then he climbed the four steps. One at a time. Hand on the rail.
And he sat down in the front row right next to me.
He was breathing hard.
He reached over and patted my knee. Twice.
“Well,” he said. “That went all right.”
I couldn’t answer him.
I just put my head down on his shoulder, on that tan Sunday sport coat that still smelled a little like cedar from his closet.
And I cried like I hadn’t cried since my mother died.
Down on the floor, the coach had come out with her phone to take the picture.
Travis and Kaylee stood in front of her poster. Him holding the rose. Her holding his arm. Both of them red in the face.
Then Kaylee looked up at the bleachers.
She waved at Mason and me and her grandpa to come down.
Mr. Halvorson leaned into the microphone.
“Come on, Jodi. Bring ’em down here.”
And everybody laughed.
So we went down. Dad, Mason, and me.
Dad took those stairs a second time without one word of complaint.
That picture, the five of us at center court under the maroon and gold streamers, is the one on our refrigerator now.
Mason’s holding his pumpkin volleyball poster upside down in it.
Nobody noticed until we got it printed.
We left it.
Sophia Rivers is an experienced News Content Editor with a sharp eye for detail and a passion for delivering accurate and engaging news stories. At TheArchivists, she specializes in curating, editing, and presenting news content that informs and resonates with a global audience.
Sophia holds a degree in Journalism from the University of Toronto, where she developed her skills in news reporting, media ethics, and digital journalism. Her expertise lies in identifying key stories, crafting compelling narratives, and ensuring journalistic integrity in every piece she edits.
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