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Despite my efforts to offer the simplest answers possible, Eloise manages to draw our conversation out for a good ten minutes. As soon as I finish talking to her, I run into another distant relative. Then another. And another. By the time I make it out onto the patio, half the hors d’oeuvres are gone.
I snag a few mini bruschetta and strike up a conversation with Ashley Martin. Her father works with mine, and we were friendly in high school. We’ve barely started chatting when Hallie appears.
“Here you are! Come on, we need you at the table.”
I groan. “Nice to see you, Ashley. Bridesmaid duty calls.”
I follow Hallie as she weaves through the tables back to ours. My dad and Sandra are standing from their seats at the head table and making their way out onto the dance floor. I plop down on my chair to watch them waltz, realizing I never even grabbed a drink.
I remember my father having no sense of rhythm, but apparently it’s something he rediscovered along with some paternal instincts. They sway in time to some song with a melody that sounds familiar but I can’t name.
The music ends, and Sandra walks over to her father. He rises, takes her hand, and they head back out onto the dance floor. I expect my father to walk over to his mother’s chair, but instead he strides in the opposite direction.
Toward my end of the table.
Toward me.
“Dance with your old man, Saylor?”
My gaze swings to Hallie, but she doesn’t look the least bit surprised. She knew. She knew he was going to do this, and I feel a little betrayed by the lack of warning.
“Sure,” I say, standing. What else can I say? We’re in front of a couple hundred people. On his wedding day.
We head out onto the dance floor, and my father’s lost his newfound rhythm. We sway awkwardly together.
“I’m happy for you, Dad,” I finally say when the silence is so thick, it’s choking me, and I feel like I have to say something.
“Thank you, Saylor. That means a lot,” he replies, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
Silence falls between us again.
“Maybe we’ll be doing this again one day. At your wedding.”
I tense. “I doubt it.”
“There’s no…special guy?” my father asks, and if I wasn’t so uncomfortable, I would laugh. My father checked out back when I thought boys had cooties. We’ve never had a conversation about a guy. I doubt his rediscovered parenting skills would be thrilled to know about the ways I took advantage of his absence during my high school years.
“Nope.” I almost leave it at that, but then I add, “Not a big fan of relying on people.”
“You don’t have to do everything alone, Saylor.”
“Well, I didn’t really have a choice.”
He sighs. “I know. But I hoped you’d learn from my mistakes.”
“I have.”
“Relying on people is not a mistake. Relying on someone who doesn’t rely on you is. That’s what happened with your mother and me. I relied on her for everything, and she didn’t rely on me at all. You’re strong, Saylor. So, so strong. You don’t need someone to hold you up, but it’s nice to have someone to lean on.” He looks over at Sandra, who’s laughing at something her father is saying. “It’s really nice.”
I say nothing.
Wisely, my father opts to change the subject. “Sandra and I were talking about taking a weekend trip to Lancaster this fall. Hopefully catch a soccer game?”
“You want to come to one of my games?” I don’t bother to hide the shock in my voice.
He nods once.
“Why?”
