I’ve thought about that man many times since. I never even got his name.
The assembly started.
Principal Whitfield gave a little speech about fathers and father figures and the important men in our lives. A boy in sixth grade read a poem about his dad’s truck. Two girls did a skit that involved a fake mustache and made the whole room laugh. A shy boy played a song on the trumpet so loudly that a baby in the back started crying.
Every time a kid finished, they looked out into the audience. And every time, a dad was waving back. Or wiping his eyes. Or standing up to clap.
I watched Caleb watching them.
He sat very straight in his chair. He didn’t laugh at the skit. He didn’t turn around to look at me. He just watched every kid finish and every dad stand up, one after another, with that same careful glass of water look on his face.
