Cort

He was already seated when the priest arrived, napkin in his lap, coffee in hand. He introduced himself as Cort. He was headed to Chicago to see his daughter — she lived there with her mother, his second ex-wife. He said he was a good father. He just wasn’t perfect, he guessed. The priest told him that being a good father and being a present one aren’t always the same thing. Cort looked at him, uncertain whether he was being challenged or understood. When they parted on the platform at Albuquerque, Cort paused just long enough. “It’s good not to eat alone,” the priest said. “Yeah,” Cort replied quietly. “It is.”