Chapter 30: A Mumbler And A Bride.

We arrived Indianapolis late in the evening for the big introduction. I found my father waiting at baggage claim, smiling.

My father is a true representation of what you call polished. He has full head of dark hair always in place, tall and he looks fitter than men of his age. He wore a light blue polo shirt, well pressed khakis and dark brown loafer with tassels. My father look so healthy with a nice posture befitting for a doctor.

"Daddy!" I squealed as Jon and I approached him.

"Hi baby," he said, opening his arms wide to embrace me. I inhaled his aftershave, seems he just showered before his drive over.

"It's so nice to see you," I said in my 'daddy's little girl' border-line baby-talk voice.

"You too, sweetie."

My father and I don't know any other way to interact. If we are alone for a long time, we'll fall silent and awkward. But on the surface, in front of an audience, we fulfill our various saliently and traditional roles—roles that makes us feel both comfortable. But, when