Kids rushed out of the school—his ten-year-old daughter among them.
He rolled down the window. His daughter waved— not at him, but her mother.
"Your father is across the street," her mother said as she opened the car door. "Get in."
"Can't I say hi?"
"Do what I say. Get in the damn car!"
She climbed onto the back seat, knelt, and looked out the rear window.
Her mother glared at her father, slid behind the steering wheel. Then, she drove off.
The daughter signaled good-bye to her father. He never saw.