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Back 3 a.m.
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  67. 3:46 a.m.

For the hundredth time in the last several months, I ponder calling him back and asking him about his past. Asking him why a couple of US Army investigators had shown up on Isabel’s doorstep inquiring about a hair sample of my father’s, which I had Isabel send to a DNA testing facility. I wanted to know why his DNA sample triggered a red flag with the Army when, to my knowledge, he’d never served.

Luckily, Isabel had been quick on her feet and told the investigators that the hair sample belonged to one of her uncles who had returned to Mexico. That being said, it wouldn’t have been difficult for the investigators to prove Isabel was lying, then connect the dots from her to me, then ultimately, to Richard Bins.

When nothing happened for a month, then two, I forgot about it. Decided it must have been some sort of mix-up. Then the wedding planning started, and it slowly drifted from my consciousness, pushed out by color schemes, flowers, and wine selections.

Speaking of which, I open up my laptop and find the schedule my father had emailed me.

3:00 a.m. - 3:03 a.m. — Put on tux/brush teeth/comb hair

Three minutes?

What if I have to poop?

3:03 a.m. - 3:08 a.m. — Small talk with guests

3:08 a.m. - 3:17 a.m. — Ceremony

3:17 a.m. - 3:20 a.m. — Photos

3:20 a.m. - 3:23 a.m. — Champagne Toast

3:23 a.m. - 3:31 a.m. — Dinner

3:31 a.m. - 3:34 a.m. — Cake ceremony

3:34 a.m. - 3:39 a.m. — First Dance (“All of Me”/John Legend)

3:39 a.m. - 3:44 a.m. — Father/daughter dance (“Isn’t She Lovely”/Stevie Wonder)

3:44 a.m. - 3:58 a.m. — Open Dancing (*See Ingrid’s Playlist)

3:58 a.m. - 4:00 a.m. — Bride and Groom time

Bride and Groom time?

Two minutes?

I laugh.

I wonder if this is Ingrid’s time frame or my father’s.

Next, I check the webcam to make sure it’s working, open the video recording program I’d downloaded, then set the laptop to sleep mode.

It is 3:42 a.m.

I hear a clambering from the stairs and turn.

It’s LAM.

Lassie, Archie, and Murdock.

The three of them sidle up to the table and sit down on their haunches. Archie is still learning and he topples backward.

I laugh, then ask playfully, “What do you guys want?”

They all look up.

It’s like they can quadruple the size of their eyes on command.

“Fine.”

Half of my “last meal” remains, and I go grab bowls and divvy it up.

All three devour the food.

I notice Lassie has left half a piece of bacon in his bowl. He nudges Archie over and nods at the bacon. Archie gobbles it down and Lassie jumps up on my lap.

“That was nice of you.”

Meow.

“You gave Archie your last piece of bacon.”

Meow.

“Scrawny? He’s a kitten. Kittens are supposed to be scrawny.”