“This is my dad,”
I introduce my step-dad to my boarding school Headmistress.
“And this is my Dick.”
I introduce my biological father.
We all inwardly and outwardly cringe.
“I mean, this is Dick. My father. Dick Parise.”
Crawl in a hole. Die. I’m 15. Please, just let me go ahead and die.
Here they both are- a rare moment- both of my fathers.
The one who created me and the one who raised me.
A chuckle. A laugh. An inward mortification. We move on to pleasantries.
But then came my wedding less than a decade a later.
I’d always imagined both of them on each arm.
But then he said, after their divorce, “You know that would be hard for me.”
I paused and reconsidered the definition of “dad”.
And then, I walked down the aisle with my father.