Ryan took a job in the North Dakota oil fields when Kaylee was four.
The money was good. And the distance turned out to be even better. For him.
He came home less. Then not at all.
For a while, he called on her birthdays. Then he called on some of them.
The last call came when she turned eleven. He promised he’d drive down for her confirmation.
He didn’t come.
That was six years ago.
She still has a phone number for him. She hasn’t dialed it since seventh grade. She keeps it in her contacts under his first name. Ryan. Not Dad.
Travis came along when Kaylee was seven.
He sells seed corn and soybeans out of a pole shed north of town. He came into the dental clinic where I work with a cracked molar.
I cleaned his teeth for two whole years before he asked me to supper.
