“Halo, you are still my child,” he said. “I want to take care of you sometimes.”
“Well, old man, come visit me,” I teased, trying to keep it light. “Outside of that, I’m fine. Work is good. Tess is still loud. Life is lifing. And I can replace skates, Daddy.”
I paused.
“But…”
That word hung there. He knew what I wanted. I didn’t even have to finish.
“Halima…,” he exhaled. “One day.”
‘One day’ had turned into never. Silverrun held my mother like a memory trapped under glass. It was where they fell in love and built a home until we relocated to the south to be with my father's family. This was the place where it all started. It hurt him to step back here. It hurt me that he wouldn’t.
“Okay, Dad,” I whispered, no fight left in me. “I just… I just want you to see the life I’ve built here.”
There it was, the truth I rarely let out. I wasn’t asking him to fix anything. I wanted him to witness me.
So many people expected me to fall on my face when I left Coupeville. But I didn’t. I carved something out of this place. A home. A career I loved. A community. A rhythm. I wanted him to see that. To be proud of that. Proud of me.
“I need more time, Babygirl,” he said, voice breaking just a little. “I just… I can’t. Not yet.”
It wasn’t rejection. It was grief talking. It was love with a limp. And even when I understood it…it still stung.
“Okay,” I said, pulling in a breath that filled too much and not enough. “I love you. I just got home and need to get showered and ready for bed.”
“I love you too. Call me on Sunday.”
“Okay. I will. Talk soon.”
The line clicked off.
I stayed in my car for another beat, phone still warm in my hand, heart caught between full and hollow. Talking to him always did that. He carried my mother’s ghost. I carried both of theirs.
“Whew,” I muttered, rubbing my face with both hands. Tonight had been a lot.
I reached back and rubbed Brixxi’s head. She licked my fingers, tail wagging, feeling the shift in me.
“You hungry, baby?”
She wagged harder, my only guaranteed yes in a world full of complications.
Inside the house, I went through the motions, keys in the bowl, sneakers off, uniform tossed in the wash. Brixxi barked once and ran to the door like something had moved outside. When I checked, nothing was there except the stretch of shadows under the streetlight.
“See? Nothing there,” I whispered, even though an uneasiness settled over me. I double-locked the door, and before I could even exhale, my phone rang. I didn’t check the screen.
I just answered.
“Daddy, tell Auntie I got her message.”
I was met with silence, not the wrong number or glitch silence—listening silence. Creepy, intentional silence that prickled the back of my neck.
“Hello?” I tried again.
Nothing.
“Yeah, we’re not doing this tonight,” I muttered, hanging up before that emptiness swallowed me whole.
Later, soaking in the tub with lavender steam filling the room, I tried to unwind. My hip was bruising, my nerves were still rattled, and my mind refused to settle. Every time I tried to focus on anything else, it kept snapping back to one place.
