When a disabled girl is sad because she doesn’t have a prom date, her kind father steps in to help her. What starts out as a sign of affection draws everyone over. The next day, he gets rewarded for being selfless in a way that will impact their lives forever.
Hey Isla, look! “Dad is here!”
The comments disrupted the peace of the churchyard. Isla, who was 17, wailed by her mother’s casket. She turned slowly, not knowing what to do.
James was the nasty guy her mom had been talking about for a long time. Her dad. When Isla was seven, her mom Sandra and James split up. She hasn’t seen her dad since then, except when he mailed her court-ordered child support checks and made nasty accusations.
He looked older since his hands were rough and his beard was gray. But his eyes didn’t change. When they met, his eyes settled down.
James murmured softly, “Hey, sweetheart,” and then he held her slowly but with love. He went up to the coffin and put a small wreath on it.
Sir, is that your truck? A melancholy guest said anything. “It takes up half the driveway.”
James looked at his vehicle, which was covered in dirt. “That’s mine.” For the first time in ten years, I saw my daughter. I’ll move it now. “Thanks for getting it.”
Isla didn’t say anything while she watched the conversation. Her mom had informed her that James was intoxicated and not to be trusted, but he didn’t appear like that. There was no anger, only a deep aching where a connection should have been.
James helped Isla pack her stuff into his pickup after the funeral and the visitors left.
“I’m taking you home,” he said.
She stopped for a bit, and her voice was strained. “There’s no way I can leave this house.” That’s all I have of her.
James clenched his jaw but said softly. “I know.” But you shouldn’t be alone right now.
Isla didn’t say anything. Her heart was heavy, but her legs were even heavier. Isla has been limping since she was six because her left leg hurts and becomes worse with time. Some days she could get along with just crutches. She largely needed her wheelchair.
Isla got to a little, dirty house that smelled like burnt coffee and motor oil two days later. James did everything he could to clean it. He gave up his bedroom, purchased her a nice mattress, and built a ramp for the front porch.
He looked up how to braid her hair on Google, burned spaghetti twice, and put her hoodie in the dryer for too long, which made it smaller. But Isla saw these things as evidence of love.
She didn’t understand why James kept leaving at night.
James would sneak out of the house every night after dinner when she was sleeping. Isla remembers her mother saying, “Your father is drinking again.” That’s all he does.
She didn’t believe it until one day after school when she got home and noticed that the door was locked and there was a note on the porch that said, “Keys under the pot.” When Dad pleaded, “Please come back soon,” she was upset.
She made the spaghetti, ate it, and left James a bowl. She cried in bed that night.
She said softly into her pillow, “Maybe I’d have a date for prom if I weren’t broken.”
Everyone had a date for prom, which was just a few days away. Everyone but her. She was brave enough to ask a few boys to dance, but they laughed.
Who wants to dance with the girl on a chair?
When James returned home at midnight, he found her curled up and trying to stop weeping.
What is wrong, honey? He asked her while he was running.
She wept, “I don’t have a date for prom.” No one wants me, Dad. She didn’t think this way.
She turned aside and cried into the pillow.
James didn’t say anything. He came home an outfit the next day. Isla thought the dark navy blue with a shimmer looked like stars. She gasped when she saw that.
“Give it a try,” he added with a smile.
“Why?” she inquired, not understanding. Not going.
James smiled. You are. “With me.”
A truck engine roared in the parking lot on prom night as seniors and their friends came in flashy cars and glittering outfits.
James left with shabby pants and a suit jacket that had seen better days. He carefully lowered Isla’s wheelchair and helped her get off the back of the truck, smoothing the dress over her lap as he did so.
The father and daughter walked down the red carpet. People in the audience whispered. There were a few kids watching. Some of them smiled. James pushed Isla out onto the dance floor.
The music got louder.
James bent over. “Are you ready?”
She laughed, but it was nervous. “For what?”
“Because of this.”
He grabbed her and spun her around in one swift motion. He slowly and carefully turned the music.
Isla laughed a lot and didn’t hold back. She didn’t feel like the girl in the wheelchair anymore because her hair and clothes were blowing around. She just felt as she always does. Loved.
She cried. “I love you, Dad.”
After the dancing, students crowded around her. Some folks expressed they were sorry for not paying attention to her. Some folks wanted to take pictures of themselves.
Everyone was paying attention to James. Some of his parents cried and gave him a pat on the back to say congratulations.
“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in years,” stated one mother. “Good man.”
James smiled and nodded, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t say why he wasn’t there every night or why he suddenly came back into Isla’s life.
But fate has other plans.
James visited the mailbox the next morning after his midnight shift and found a little gift. It said on the card, “Dad of the Year.”
There was a $10,000 cheque under it.
“Dear James, the prom made a big impression on us,” stated another note. We hope this helps you and Isla. Good luck with the procedure. She deserves more time, so give it to her. From Your Friends at Prom.
James was astonished at the check. He sat on the porch and cried.
When Isla woke up, he hurried to her room. Hey, Pumpkin, do you know what? Isla got a present. “An actual miracle.”
“What do you mean?”
He gave her the letter and the check.
She shook her hands as she read. “This is real?”
James’ voice broke as he nodded. “You can finally have surgery with what I’ve saved.”
Isla held him close and wailed. “I don’t think so.” I thought… I believed this was how I would always live.
He said, “You won’t.” “I promise.”
Isla didn’t realize that James worked as a midnight caregiver at a local nursing home as a second job. He ran his truck and worked hard to save money for Isla’s therapy.
Isla was told by a doctor years ago that she might be able to walk again, but it would take time, money, and hard work. James gave all three. Sandra didn’t trust him. She thought he was wasting time at the bars. She kicked him out because she didn’t believe him anymore.
James never fought back. He poured all of his energy into secretly saving money for his child. He loved her even if he wasn’t perfect.
It was worth all the labor in the end.
There was a plan for the operation. It took months to get better, deal with the discomfort, and go through physical therapy. Isla walked again, but she was shaking. She didn’t use a wheelchair or any walking sticks. No wheelchair.
James felt like she was being born again as she ran across the yard to hug her dad.
He turned her around and said, “You did it.” “Good job.”
Isla giggled, even though she was out of breath. “We did.”
Isla enjoyed being free. She won a scholarship from a national school to study architecture. She was meant to go away in October.
He was about to cry, but James helped her pack.
“Are you going to miss me, old man?” She said something funny.
“More than anything,” he said.
They made memories all summer by cooking, riding bikes, and dancing in the kitchen. James even taught her how to fix a flat tire.
Isla hugged him and said, “You’re my superhero, Dad,” before she departed to college. You have always been.
James waved goodbye from the porch as she got on the bus, feeling happy and grateful.
He had been the terrible guy for someone else for years. His daughter finally thought he was a hero.
That was all he needed.