I shouldn’t answer.
I don’t want to answer.
I don’t even know how to answer.
“She’s…” I start.
Honey waits.
I close my eyes. “She’s someone I can’t explain.”
Her expression softens instantly. “Oh. Okay. Wow. That’s… new.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, chest tight. “Tell me about it.”
“Did something happen?”
“No.”
“Then why are you?—?”
“She hasn’t reached out.” I blurt before I can stop myself. “I have no idea what she’s doing or thinking.”
Honey blinks. “Wait, you got ghosted?”
My daughter looks at me and laughs.
“Not fuckin’ funny, Honey.”
She laughs harder, “yes it is. Have you heard from her at all?”
“No.”
“For two weeks?”
“Not one word.”
“And you didn’t reach out either?”
I pause, “…No.”
“Oh my god.” She presses her fingers to her temples. “Pops, I love you, but you’re unbelievable. You’re both sitting on opposite ends of the state waiting for the other person to blink.”
“She’s independent,” I say defensively. “She doesn’t need me chasing her.”
“My God! Men are so dumb! Yes, she does, fuckin’ idiot,” Honey snaps. “Or at least she needs to know you want to. Women like that, women who’ve been through hell, don’t expect people to show up. You have to show up anyway.”
I stare at her.
She stares back.
“Dad?” she says, softer this time. “If you’re even thinking about a woman this much what would it kill you to have the balls to reach out?”
My jaw works. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is.”
“She’s been through a lot. We aren’t anything like that.”
