The man who stepped in when my father refused to walk me down the aisle

name had appeared on my phone.

I answered with my elbow because both hands were wet.

Then he said the one thing I had spent thirty-two years pretending he would never say.

For several seconds, I didn’t respond.

Outside, an October wind moved through the ornamental grasses along the fence. The shop door rattled once in its frame.

Finally I asked, “Why?”

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He inhaled.

“Your sister says it would be hard for her.”

I looked at the rose stem

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