“In life or death situations, my father has only been there once for me. So I'd like to tell him thanks for not pulling out when I needed him the most: conception.”

“My father once told me that it’s not enough for a man to be lucky; that a guy has to know when that streak is on for him.”

“I wondered what my father had looked like that day, how he had felt, marrying the lively and beautiful girl who was my mother. I wondered what his life was like now. Did he ever think of us? I wanted to hate him, but I couldn't; I didn't know him well enough. Instead, I wondered about him occasionally, with a confused kind of longing. There was a place inside me carved out for him; I didn't want it to be there, but it was. Once, at the hardware store, Brooks had shown me how to use a drill. I'd made a tiny hole that went deep. The place for my father was like that.”

“The image sears my brain too, and I wonder if I will ever be able to forget it. Although I realize that I am in trouble here, there is still a part of me that wants to giggle. The situation has moved so out of control, I half-expect him to pull out a pair of furry handcuffs.”

“I wanted to tell him I loved him, that I'd always loved him, & that life-& I- had never been the same without him there.”

“The reason for my discomfort was simple. Our story - however romantic I could make it sound in my head - sometimes sounded a little tawdry in the re-telling. There was no escaping the fact that I'd been living with the father of my child when we met; that I'd cheated on him, then left; that what James and I now shared was born out of the ruins of another relationship.”