Chapter 4: The First Thing He Asked Me For
“So, son, do you think you could help me figure out how to get one of these graduation pictures printed?””
Marcus asked the question as if we had spent the last fifteen years sharing Sunday dinners, birthday parties, and ordinary conversations about life.
I stood in my navy graduation gown, holding the diploma cover the principal had handed me, and stared at him.
Daniel's eyebrows rose.
My mother closed her eyes for one long second.
The photographer, a middle-aged woman with silver-framed glasses, slowly lowered her camera.
“Sir,” she said politely, “we haven't even finished taking the pictures yet.””
Marcus chuckled.
“Right, right. Sorry. I'm just proud of the boy.””
The boy.
I was eighteen years old. I had worked through high school, earned a place in an engineering program, and delivered a graduation speech that had brought half the auditorium to its feet.
Yet Marcus had somehow managed to turn the first conversation we had after the ceremony into a request for technical assistance.
Daniel leaned toward me.
“Should I explain that printers have instructions now?”” he whispered.
I nearly laughed.
My mother heard him and covered her mouth.
Marcus didn't.
“What was that?”” he asked.
“Nothing,” Daniel replied pleasantly.
“Just admiring the technology.””
The photographer cleared her throat.
“All right, everyone. Let's try one more. Joshua, stand in the middle.
Mom on your left. Dad on your right.””
She pointed toward Daniel.
Marcus immediately stepped forward.
“Actually, I'm his biological father.””
The photographer froze.
Daniel took a half step backward.
My mother opened her mouth, but I spoke first.
“That's fine,” I said.
“Daniel is standing on my right.””
I moved beside my stepfather and placed a hand on his shoulder.
Marcus remained on the opposite side of my mother.
The photographer looked between us, apparently deciding that the simplest solution was to pretend she hadn't heard anything unusual.
“Beautiful. Everybody smile.””
The camera flashed.
For one second, the four of us stood together in a photograph that looked like an ordinary family portrait.
But nothing about that family was ordinary.
When the photographer lowered her camera, Daniel squeezed my shoulder.
“You ready to get something to eat, graduate?””
“Absolutely.””
My mother smiled.
“I made a reservation at the restaurant near the river.””
Marcus looked surprised.
“You're all going to lunch?””
I nodded.
“We planned it last week.””
“Without me?””
The question escaped before he could soften it.
My mother turned toward him.
“Marcus, you told Joshua you might attend the ceremony. You never said you wanted to come to lunch.””
“I thought family would naturally include me.””
Daniel looked down at his shoes.
I could tell he was trying not to intervene.
I answered instead.
“We can talk about having lunch another time. Today, we're celebrating.””
Marcus's jaw tightened, but he nodded.
“Sure. Of course.””
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
“Can I at least get a picture with you, Joshua? Just the two of us?””
The request caught me off guard.
I had spent years imagining that moment. In my childhood fantasies, he would have wrapped an arm around me, told me how proud he was, and promised never to leave again.
Now he stood in front of me, waiting for an answer.
I looked at Daniel.
He gave me a small, encouraging nod.
It wasn't his decision.
It was mine.
“Okay,” I said.
“One picture.””
Marcus brightened immediately.
He handed his phone to a nearby teacher and pulled me close. His arm felt unfamiliar around my shoulders. He held me so tightly that the edge of his hoodie bunched against my gown.
“Smile, son,” he said.
The teacher took the picture.
Then Marcus asked for another.
And another.
In the fourth picture, he turned toward the camera with a broad smile while I stood beside him, looking uncertain.
When he finally retrieved his phone, he examined the photographs carefully.
“These are good,” he said.
“I'm going to put one on Facebook.””
I blinked.
“Why?””
He looked up.
“Because you're graduating. People should see it.””
“That's fine. Just don't make it sound like you've been there for everything.””
His smile faded.
“I wouldn't do that.””
I hoped he meant it.
Daniel called me over to help carry a bag of graduation programs to the car. My mother followed him, leaving Marcus and me alone near the auditorium doors.
He slipped his phone into his pocket.
“Joshua, can I ask you something?””
“Sure.””
“Did you really mean what you said in that speech?””
I studied his face.
“Which part?””
“The part about Daniel being your dad.””
I could hear the marching band rehearsing somewhere inside the building. A trumpet played the same three notes repeatedly, stopping and starting.
“Yes,” I answered.
Marcus rubbed his beard.
“I guess I thought that, because I wasn't around much, you would still understand that I was your father.””
“I do understand that.””
“Then why did you make it sound like he was the one who raised you?””
“Because he did.””
He looked away.
I didn't enjoy watching him struggle with the truth. Some part of me still wanted to protect him from feeling what I had felt as a child.
But I had learned that protecting someone from the consequences of their choices often meant carrying those consequences yourself.
Marcus took a breath.
“I was young when you were born.””
“You were twenty-five.””
“That's young.””
“Daniel was thirty-one when he met me.””
He stared at me.
I continued before he could answer.
“He didn't know me. He wasn't responsible for me. He could have walked away at any point, but he didn't.””
Marcus's expression hardened.
“So now I'm the villain?””
“No. You're my father. That's a fact. But being my father doesn't erase what happened.””
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he looked toward the parking lot.
“I suppose I have a lot to make up for.””
“You do.””
He nodded slowly, as if he had expected me to deny it.
I started walking toward the exit.
“Joshua?””
I turned.
He looked uncomfortable again.
“Could you send me that picture when you get a chance?””
I stared at him, then laughed despite myself.
“Dad, you were holding the phone.””
He looked down at it.
For the first time that day, he seemed genuinely embarrassed rather than defensive.
“Oh. Right.””
I shook my head.
“Ask the teacher. She took the pictures.””
He nodded.
“Right. I'll do that.””
When I reached the car, Daniel was waiting beside the passenger door.
He looked at me carefully.
“You okay?””
I nodded.
“Yeah.””
He studied my face for another moment.
“You don't have to pretend for my sake.””
I looked at him.
“I'm not pretending.””
“Good.””
He opened the door.
Then, just as I was about to climb inside, he added, “For the record, if Marcus puts that picture on Facebook, make sure he tags you correctly. I don't want your graduation becoming a technology tutorial.””
I burst out laughing.
Daniel grinned.
And for a few precious seconds, the whole morning felt lighter.
Until my phone buzzed.
It was a message from Marcus.
The preview appeared on my screen.
Son, I know today was emotional. There's something important I need to tell you about why I wasn't around when you were growing up.
I stared at the message.
May you like
Then another notification appeared beneath it.
It's about your mother.