He started crying.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop.”
He went still.
“I don’t need another apology.”
I pointed toward the stroller.
“I need their father.”
“I wanted to walk through those doors.”
“I know.”
“I wanted to pick them up. Both of them.”
“You can hold them.”
He shook his head.
“I’ve been practicing.”
“What?”
“Standing without help. Taking steps between the bars.”
He rubbed his eyes.
“Some days my legs cooperate. Some days they don’t. The therapists told me to slow down, but I kept pushing.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought if I worked hard enough, you’d never have to see me like this.”
I sat beside him.
“You thought I’d stop loving you?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
He stared at the girls.
“I promised myself I’d never become my father.”
