Oh yes, that was very true.

Now, I said to Christie, “Over the years, I haven’t always known the right thing to say, but the two easiest words I ever said were ‘I do.’”

“Pat, you know how to make a woman feel loved.”

There was an odd finality to her words that left me momentarily unsettled.

I felt her foot nudge against mine, and at first I wondered if she was simply repositioning her leg underneath the table, but by her smile, I knew it was more than that.

“Alright, what’s your third one?” I asked.

“The night you proposed. Central Park. We’d been walking for almost an hour.”

“Yes.”

“I noticed that your shoe was untied, and when I pointed it out, you knelt down, pulled out the ring, and . . . You were so earnest when you proposed. Were you nervous?”

“Naw.”

“Thought so.” She took a delicate bite of her dessert. “I never asked, did you plan to have your shoe untied?”

“I’d read that scientists have discovered that the force of impact when a foot hits the ground causes the shoelace to stretch, which loosens the knot, and then when you swing your foot backward, the string relaxes because of the inertial force and loosens. They’re studying it to understand how complex structures—such as DNA—fail when—”

“Eh-hem. You were doing so well with being a romantic.”

“Ah. Right. Sorry.”

“So, the shoelace?”

“Why do you think we walked around so long beforehand? I’d left it loose on purpose. I needed it to come all the way undone and for you to notice.”

“Alright, Pat. What’s your third memory?”

I entwined her fingers in mine. “The one that’s unfolding here, tonight.”

I saw the glint of a single tear sneak out of her right eye.

“You okay?” I said.

“I’ve never been more okay than I am right now.”

++++

Timothy read to the silent, attentive crowd.

Emily was not sad that her father was gone. After what she had seen him do, she was glad he wasn’t around. But she always wondered if he might return and find her.

And so, as she grew up and was shuffled from one foster family to another, she learned to sleep with her desk light on and her shades drawn, so that she wouldn’t see the darkness staring in at her from outside the house.

She was caught between loving him and hating him. Everything she knew about right and wrong told her to hate him, but everything she knew about being a daughter told her to love him.

How do you sort through feelings like that, especially when you’re a kid? How can you be expected to know right from wrong? How can you be certain you won’t grow up to become just like the one who terrifies you the most?