He knew the marriage had ended badly.
He did not know there had been a child.
“He was drinking then,” the mother continued.
“Badly.”
The president nodded.
“He fought.”
“Yes.”
“Lost jobs.”
“Yes.”
“Got arrested.”
“Twice that I know of.”
The president closed his eyes briefly.
There were more than two.
The mother continued.
“My mother moved us out of state.”
“She remarried.”
“My stepfather adopted me.”
“My biological father signed away his rights.”
The president looked at her.
“How old were you?”
“Five.”
“And he never saw you again?”
“Not until I was twenty-seven.”
The president froze.
“You found him?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“My mother died.”
“I was going through papers.”
“There was an old court record.”
“A name.”
“A Colorado address that was thirty years out of date.”
“I started searching.”
Her eyes went distant.
“When I finally found his number, I called.”
The president leaned forward.
“What did he say?”
“He hung up.”
The president stared.
She smiled faintly.
“He thought I was a scammer.”
That was so perfectly like the dead man that the president laughed despite himself.
The mother laughed too.
Then winced because laughing hurt her ribs from whatever had happened during the medical emergency.
“He called back seventeen minutes later.”
“Why seventeen?”
“I know because I stared at the phone the entire time.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked me what he gave me for my fourth birthday.”
The president frowned.
“You remembered?”
“Yes.”
“A red plastic horse.”
The mother swallowed.
“I told him.”
“And?”
“He started crying.”
The president looked away.
The old biker almost never cried in front of anyone.
Even in the hospital.
Even at funerals.
He cried during old western movies, but denied it.
The mother continued.
“We met at a diner.”
“He got there an hour early.”
“How do you know?”
“The waitress told me.”
“He sat in his truck for forty minutes because he was scared to come inside.”
The president smiled sadly.
The man everyone feared had been afraid to meet his daughter.
“What happened?”
“We made small talk.”
“For how long?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“It was.”
She smiled faintly.
“He asked about work.”
“Weather.”
“Traffic.”
“Then I finally said, ‘Are you going to pretend you didn’t abandon me?’”
The president winced.
“What did he say?”
“He said no.”
The mother’s eyes filled again.