That’s Gunnvall for you. Old enough to be my father, but still manages to stay in everyone’s business.
“Urzu invited her over for a traditional Dhugaren meal. She’s makingfurkurra.”
“Ooh, my favorite, and no one makes it like Urzu does. I’ll tell you what, I will trade you a jug of ice wine for some of thatfurkurra. I’ll bring it with me when I come by. What time is dinner?” He’d brought the icy blue bottle back to the counter with him, but kept it gripped in his claws. Sneaky old man, but typical Dhugaren. I’d have to be quick in getting back to the apartment. If anyone else found out about our dinner guests, the entire division would be inviting themselves over.
“You know I’m only saying yes because Urzu will be angry if I say no.”
“Oh, I know. I’d like another chance to chat with Destiny, though. She seems like a sweet kid.”
“You met her?” I ask him.
“Yeah, I had to patch her up yesterday," he replies. "Humans seem pretty small and I don’t think they have the defense mechanisms the Silfan have. I didn’t see anything, anyways.”
“Oh yea, her finger. Furga told me you bandaged her up.”
“Oh, did she? Hmm.”
“Hush, old man. I’ll see you tonight. Don’t make it weird.”
10
Destiny
Dread pools in my belly as I walk back to the apartment. Since Mom left, Dad has not been to a single social function that was not required. I barely got him to Sanctuary Station, and I think the only reason he acquiesced is because I was going, one way or another, and he didn’t want to be left alone. That’s what I told him, anyway. I wouldn’t have actually left without him. He’s my dad, and my last tie to the planet I came from, to my childhood, my mother, and my home. I’m not going to abandon him and go across the galaxy. I just wish I didn’t have to drag him so forcefully along behind me.
Just this once, I really need him to be cool. To go with the flow. Or maybe even just take a shower and sit at a dinner table. He doesn’t even have to talk, but I am not sure I can handle the embarrassment of showing up by myself after Khur had made it clear it was not an invitation tomebut just to the new humans in town.
Plus, I know next to nothing about Dhugaren culture, thanks again, useless orientation videos, and I really don’t want to offend Urzu. She’s been nothing but kind and hospitable since I arrived, and I don’t want to alienate one of the first friends I made.
Steeling my spine and squaring my shoulders, I walk towards our apartment with a purpose. I am going to talk to him confidently and clearly and express my needs just like my therapist told me to.
The apartment is dark when I open the door, but quickly floods with lights when I walk in. The living room is still bare and kind of cold, and I make a mental note to ask Urzu if I can borrow a blanket or something this evening. We just need a little color and texture and it will make a huge difference in this sterile, uninviting place.
“Dad? You home?” I call.
Of course he is, he’s always home.
I am feeling more bitter towards him than I have in a long time and I don’t want to examine that too closely. I take a deep breath through my nose and remind myself he issickand he needs love and understanding, not judgment.
“Hey Desi-dear. I’m here.”
Standing at the end of the hallway in his pajamas and his musty robe, I want to scream for a second, but then I see his eyes, ringed with purple and sunken into his head. He looks at me so sadly and pathetically I immediately feel guilt swamp me. He’s sick. He can’t be expected to do everything I want him to do. It’s selfish of me to think he can perform at 100% after all he’s been through.
“Hey, Dad. Did you eat today?”
“Umm, I think so? I had pancakes this morning,” he says.
“I remember. I made them. Is that the only thing you’ve had?” I plaster on a forced smile.
He shrugs like a petulant child and stares at the floor between us, picking at a thread in his robe.
So I guess today is areallybad day. Even if it had been a good day, though, he wasn’t going to do or be what I need him to be.
I want to yell at him, maybe throw something. I probably would have thrown something if there was anything in the room to throw. As it is, though, I just stand here smiling stupidly and trying not to let my emotions get the best of me. Do I even want to ask about the dinner party?
If I don’t I am going to beat myself up over it. I have to give him a chance. I’m just starting to realize that I am tired of him knocking my hand away every time I extend it.
He didn’t even realize I was gone this morning.If I had been murdered last night, he wouldn’t even have noticed. Would he have reported me missing or would that have been too much effort? The space behind my eyes hurts just considering it.
