Instead, Dad surprised me. “But this—” he gestured vaguely to my outfit, “—this matters too. When I met your mother, I nearly missed a playoff game because her car broke down and she needed a ride.” I stared at him. Dad talked about Mom, but he had his standard set of stories, and reminders. I’ve never heard this one. “You did?” “Coach benched me for the first quarter.” His smile was tinged with memory. “Worth it, though. April wore this blue dress that matched her eyes, and I remember thinking I’d sit out the whole damn season for another hour with her.”
