Never a Hero

waved good-bye to Nathan and June and headed for the door with my father. We were halfway there when a red-faced woman ushered her pigtailed daughter up to me.
    “I want to apologize,” she said. “Annabelle didn’t mean—”
    “It’s fine,” I said, and I was surprised to realize it was true. I didn’t mind. “It’s normal for kids to be curious.” I looked down at the girl. She couldn’t have been more than four. How could she understand? I crouched down to face her. “You can ask,” I said.
    She glanced up at her mom, unsure. The mother was clearly uncomfortable, but she nodded. Annabelle looked back at me. “Where’s your arm?” Blunt, just like Nick. It made me smile.
    “I’ve never had one. When I was in my mommy’s tummy, something went wrong, and my arm never grew.” Not exactly correct, but close enough for somebody as young as her.
    “What went wrong?”
    “It’s called an Amniotic Band.”
    “Like a rubber band?”
    “Yes, actually. Similar to a rubber band.”
    “Did your mom swallow one?”
    “Well, no—”
    “One time I put a rubber band around my finger, and it started to turn blue, and Mommy said don’t do that ’cause of circle nation.”
    She was so solemn. I did my best not to laugh. “Circulation?”
    “Circle-ation.”
    “That’s exactly right. That’s what happened, but when I was still in my mom’s tummy.”
    She looked with unabashed curiosity at my stump. “Does it hurt?”
    “Not at all.”
    “Can I touch it?”
    “If you want.”
    She reached out and pinched the rounded end of my arm. Whatever she’d been curious about, she nodded, obviously satisfied. “Good. Tell your mommy, don’t swallow rubber bands.”
    This time, I really did laugh. “I will.”

We were halfway home before the heat started to work in my dad’s car. He cleared his throat a lot as he drove, which told me that whatever he wanted to talk about, it made him nervous.
    “I can’t believe Mom didn’t come,” I said. It was a bit of a lie, but it seemed like the right thing to say.
    My father winced. “I can’t believe a lot of the things your mother does.”
    I’d never heard my dad say anything so negative about my mom, and yet, when I thought back, I realized I’d never really heard him defend her, either. Whenever she tossed one of her thoughtless comments my way, my dad had been there, patting me on the back, offering to take me out for ice cream.
    You’ll make him fat, my mom had said on more than one occasion.
    But not once did my dad heed her.
    Back at my place, I put a pan on the stove and filled it with milk. I stirred it until it frothed around the edges. I got out the mugs and the mix, and the entire time, I thought about my childhood. I thought about how I’d spent so many years trying to please my mom, and all along, my dad had watched in silence, bringing me little gifts behind her back.
    My dad took his cocoa, and I took mine, and we sat at the dinner table. My dad cupped his mug between his palms, letting the heat warm them. I thought about June saying it was the only thing she’d ever missed about not having a right hand. I thought about all the times I’d seen my father do it, bending over his mug to let the steam tickle his nose.
    “We used to do this when I was a kid,” I said at last, breaking the silence. “And Mom always said, ‘you’ll ruin his dinner.’”
    He nodded. “Or, if it was after dinner, she’d say, ‘you’ll make him wet the bed.’”
    “What? I never wet the bed!”
    “I know.” He took a sip of his cocoa and set it down carefully, as if it were easier to concentrate on not spilling than on facing me. “I’ve asked your mother for a divorce.”
    “What? When?”
    “This afternoon, after we got back to our hotel. I know it probably comes as a shock, but only because we’ve kept so many things from you.” He shook his head. “I owe you an apology, Owen. And an explanation.”
    “For what?”
    “For everything.” He took a deep breath. I could tell he was gearing up to tell me everything, so I waited until he was ready. “I didn’t date your mother very long before we got married. Even when she was young, she wasn’t a pleasant person. I’d actually already broken things off with her when she told me she was pregnant.”
    “So you married her.”
    “Back then, that was what you did.”
    “But . . .” I thought back to what I knew. “You guys were together several years before I was born.”
    He