By November, college applications had taken over the refrigerator.
There were printed deadlines, scholarship reminders, financial aid instructions, and a list Kaylee had titled "Things I Must Not Forget."
Mason added a drawing of a dinosaur wearing a graduation cap.
Kaylee threatened to remove it.
Travis said it improved the organization.
The dinosaur stayed.
Kaylee had narrowed her choices to three schools.
One was close enough that she could come home on weekends.
Another had a strong program she liked but would cost more.
The third was farther away and offered the possibility of a scholarship if she maintained her grades.
She talked about them constantly.
At breakfast.
In the car.
While folding laundry.
Sometimes she changed her mind twice in one evening.
Travis never told her which one to choose.
He asked questions.
What did she like about the program?
How far away did she want to be?
What would happen if the scholarship didn't come through?
Would she be happy there on an ordinary Tuesday, not just during a campus tour?
I heard him ask that last question one night while they sat at the kitchen table.
Kaylee rested her chin on her hand.
"I don't know."
"That's okay."
"What if I choose wrong?"
Travis leaned back in his chair.
"Then you learn something and figure out what to do next."
She frowned.
"That's not very comforting."
"I'm not trying to tell you that every decision works out perfectly."
He paused.
"I'm trying to tell you that one decision doesn't have to decide your whole life."
She looked at him for a long time.
"Did you always know what you wanted to do?"
He laughed.
"Not even close."
"What did you want to be when you were my age?"
"A professional baseball player."
Kaylee stared at him.
"You?"
"Yes, me."
"You can't even catch Mason's foam football."
"That is a separate issue."
She laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth.
Travis smiled.
Then he told her about the summer he had spent working at a hardware store after high school, how he had changed his plans twice, and how he had once believed that taking a different path meant he had failed.
"I thought everybody else had a map," he said.
"Turns out, most people are just trying not to look lost."
Kaylee considered that.
"You're saying I don't have to know everything right now?"
"I'm saying you can make a thoughtful choice without knowing everything."
She nodded slowly.
That conversation changed something between them.
Not because Travis had solved the college question.
He hadn't.
It changed because Kaylee had started bringing him her uncertainty instead of only bringing him the parts of herself she thought were already strong enough to show.
A week later, she came downstairs carrying a letter.
Her face was pale.
I was folding towels on the sofa when she stopped in front of us.
"I got an email."
Travis put down the remote.
"From which school?"
"The one with the scholarship."
He stood.
"Is it good news?"
"I don't know."
She handed him the printed email.
The school had invited her to an interview for a competitive scholarship program.
It was not an acceptance.
It was not a promise of money.
It was a chance.
And the chance frightened her almost as much as the possibility of losing it.
"They're going to ask questions, and I'll say something stupid."
Travis read the email again.
"Probably not."
"That's not helpful."
"Sorry."
He handed it back.
"You're allowed to be nervous."
Kaylee looked at me.
I wanted to reassure her, but she was already turning back to Travis.
"Will you help me practice?"
He answered immediately.
"Yes."
For the next several evenings, they worked through possible questions.
Travis made her practice describing her volunteer work, her grades, and what she hoped to study.
He also made her practice answering the question she dreaded most.
"Tell us about a challenge you've overcome."
Kaylee stared at him.
"I don't want to talk about family stuff."
"You don't have to."
"But what if they ask about something personal?"
"Then you decide what you're comfortable sharing."
She tapped her pen against the table.
"What if I don't know how to answer?"
"Then you take a breath and think."
"What if the silence feels awkward?"
"Let it feel awkward."
She groaned.
"You make everything sound easy."
"No. I'm just older, so I've had more opportunities to embarrass myself."
She smiled despite herself.
One night, after Mason had gone to bed, I found Travis standing alone in the kitchen.
The scholarship email was on the table.
He was looking at it without reading.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
He rubbed his palms together.
"Nothing."
I waited.
He sighed.
"I'm proud of her."
"I know."
"But I'm worried about her going away."
I sat down across from him.
"That's normal."
"I know that too."
He looked toward the stairs.
"When she was little, I used to think about the day she'd graduate. I figured I'd be the guy in the audience clapping too loudly."
"You probably will be."
He smiled briefly.
"Now it's getting close, and I keep thinking about how much I want to protect her."
"She's still going to need you."
"What if she doesn't?"
I understood then.
He wasn't only afraid of losing the ordinary routines.
He was afraid that once Kaylee left home, the title he had finally accepted would become less certain.
That he would have to earn his place all over again.
I reached across the table.
"Travis, she doesn't need you because she's helpless. She needs you because you're her father."
He looked down at our hands.
"What if I don't know how to do that when she isn't here every day?"
"You call her. You listen. You ask about her classes. You let her complain about the dining hall. You remind her to bring a coat when it's cold."
He laughed softly.
"That sounds like you."
"Then borrow my instructions."
He shook his head.
"I spent years thinking the hard part was getting her to believe I belonged."
"And now?"
"Now I think the hard part might be letting her grow up without treating every mile between us like a threat."
I squeezed his hand.
"That's a better problem to have."
The scholarship interview was scheduled for a Friday afternoon.
Travis took time off work to drive her.
Kaylee wore a navy blouse and black trousers.
She changed her shoes three times.
Mason watched from the hallway.
"You look like you're going to court."
Kaylee threw a sock at him.
Travis caught it before it hit the wall.
"That's enough from the fashion department."
Mason disappeared into the living room.
On the drive, Kaylee kept smoothing the fabric over her knees.
Travis didn't tell her to stop worrying.
He didn't tell her she would definitely get the scholarship.
He simply drove.
When they arrived, he parked beneath a bare tree and turned off the engine.
"You ready?" he asked.
"No."
"Okay."
She looked at him.
"That's all you're going to say?"
"What else do you want me to say?"
"I don't know."
He thought for a moment.
"You don't have to become a different person when you walk through that door."
Kaylee's eyes filled.
She looked quickly toward the window.
"I hate that I get emotional about everything."
"You don't have to hate it."
She took a shaky breath.
Then she reached over and hugged him.
"Thanks for coming."
"Wouldn't miss it."
He waited outside while she went in.
The interview lasted forty minutes.
When she came out, she looked exhausted.
Travis stood as soon as he saw her.
"How did it go?"
She made a face.
"I answered one question really well, one question badly, and I think I talked for six straight minutes about volunteering."
He nodded solemnly.
"Sounds like a complete interview."
She laughed.
"I don't know if I'll get it."
"Neither do I."
She stared at him.
"You could at least pretend to be optimistic."
"I am optimistic. I'm just not going to lie to you."
She looked down at the pavement.
Then she slipped her hand into his.
"Can we get something to eat?"
"Of course."
They went to a small diner on the way home.
Kaylee ordered fries and a milkshake.
Travis ordered a burger and stole two of her fries.
She slapped his hand away.
For the rest of the meal, they talked about ordinary things.
Mason's dinosaur.
A teacher who gave too much homework.
A volleyball teammate who had cut her own bangs and regretted it immediately.
They didn't discuss the scholarship again.
They didn't need to.
When they got home, Kaylee told Mason the interview had gone well enough that she might be rich someday.
Mason asked if that meant she would buy him a gaming system.
She told him it meant he should start saving his allowance.
Travis watched them argue from the doorway.
Then he came to stand beside me.
"I used to think being her father meant making sure she never got hurt."
I looked at him.
"And now?"
He watched Kaylee reach across the table to steal Mason's last fry.
"Now I think it means helping her know she can survive the things I can't prevent."
I rested my head against his shoulder.
That evening, he added the scholarship interview date to the refrigerator.
He wrote it beside the college deadlines in his careful handwriting.
The photograph from senior night remained above it.
Every day, the paper calendar grew more crowded.
Every day, the future came a little closer.
And Travis was learning that being a father did not mean holding Kaylee in place.
It meant helping her feel safe enough to leave.
Source: kaylestore.net
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: The Letter That Arrived Before Christmas Reminded Us That Being Chosen Was Not the Same as Being Promised an Easy Life
My Daughter Asked the Man Who Raised Her to Walk Beside Her, and His Answer Changed the Way I Saw Our Family
Part 10 of 12
