At first, he came home every few weeks.
Then every few months.
Eventually, he stopped coming home altogether.
His phone calls became less frequent. Birthdays passed without messages. Promises were repeatedly forgotten.
The last time Kaylee heard from him was on her eleventh birthday.
He promised to attend her confirmation ceremony.
He never appeared.
Six years had passed since then.
Kaylee still had his phone number saved, but she hadn’t called it since middle school.
In her contacts, he was simply Ryan.
Not Dad.
Travis entered our lives when Kaylee was seven.
He worked selling seed corn and soybeans from a warehouse outside town. We met when he came into the dental clinic with a cracked molar.
For nearly two years, he scheduled regular appointments before finally gathering the courage to ask me to dinner.
Later, he admitted he sometimes booked his cleanings slightly earlier than necessary just to see me.
