Getting Up
“Steve.”There is a pause.“Steve.”The tiny voice is adamant, frustrated.“Steeeeeeeeve.”The man does not look up.“Steve. Steve. Steve,” she chants.It is early—always early.Carter, his daughter, laughs. “You’re Steve.”That his name is Haiden has ceased to matter. He would love, simply, to go by Dad, or Daddy, but since her third birthday weeks ago, Carter has been stubborn—or dedicated, depending on his vantage.



























