“Fine,” she says, holding up her hands defensively. “Fine.” Then she jerks her chin in the direction of her kitchen table, where our dad is seated by himself, looking uncomfortable as he glances around. “Go make conversation, would you? I don’t want to yell across the room or sit in one of those wooden chairs.”
“Yeah,” I sigh heavily, because I owe Denice a million favors and then some—even if I also owe her a million frogs in her bed. “Fine.”
I stand up, Nessa still sleeping soundly in my arms, and then I make my way to the table.
“Hi,” I say to my dad, settling down in the chair next to him.
He startles, like he wasn’t expecting me to speak. “Hi.” His gaze falls on Nessa. “Tiny thing, isn’t she?”
“She is.”
“Neither of you were that small.”
I blink, my gaze turning to my father. “Were we not?”
“You were both bigger.”
“I’m surprised you remember.” I don’t say it to be rude, but it’s true. He wasn’t particularly present while I was growing up.
“Me too,” he says, and this surprises me even more. “But there you have it.” His gaze softens behind his glasses almost imperceptibly—has that ever happened before?—and he goes on, “Something special about a baby, I’ve gotta admit.”
He’s right, but I just say “I guess so.”
We fall into an uncomfortable silence, and I don’t search very hard for something else to say. He’s better over the phone than he is in person, as far as his ability to converse, and as far as our relationship goes, I’m probably the same.
“Everything still going well at work?” he says after thirty painful seconds of quiet.
“Yep,” I say, even though I know Shelly keeps him updated. “Going just fine.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him what his plans are once Denice’s official replacement arrives, but for some reason the question stalls. Because what if I accidentally open a door I don’t want to walk through?
And although I could wait, think it through more, talk it over with Denice to get her thoughts, I discover suddenly that I don’t want to do those things. I don’t want to wait one second longer.
My future plans aren’t something to treat impulsively. But I don’t think I’m being impulsive. I think I’m just coming to conclusions that I’ve been mulling over on a deeper level for a long time. And no amount of talking to anyone would change this feeling—this need to start a different chapter of my life.
I wasn’t planning on having this conversation tonight, but I think it might burst violently out of me if I don’t open my mouth and release it.
So I take a deep breath and spit out the word that shouldn’t be so hard to say. “Dad.”
“Hm?” It’s a grunt, really, and his eyes don’t find me at all; they’re still hooked on Nessa in my arms. I can’t blame him, I guess. It is weird to see him like this—warm toward her in a way I don’t remember from my childhood.
“I’m going to look for a different job.”
This catches his attention. He looks up at me, but he doesn’t seem surprised.
Has he been waiting for me to get on with my life? Would he ever push me away from him if I never took a step in that direction? Or would he let me stay forever, close enough to be useful but too far to feel the things you hope to feel from a father?
I give a mental snort and shake my head at the twinge of melancholy. I’m being stupid and sentimental.
“Where?” my dad says, and I’m pulled out of my thoughts.
“I don’t know yet,” I admit. “And it will probably take a while. It’s been a long time since I worked in my field.”
Another grunt, and his eyes drop back to Nessa, who’s now snoring slightly—tiny little sounds that filter through her button nose. “I’ll find someone else to do what you’ve been doing if I need to,” my dad says.
I’m easily replaceable, apparently. But I push that idea away, because whether or not it’s true, there’s no use dwelling on it.
I might just need to stop waiting—waiting to hear what I want to hear from him. So I give him a cordial nod and stand up, passing back through the kitchen and to where Denice is now asleep on the couch. She’s in the exact same position as when I left her, but her eyes are closed, and she’s snoring just like her daughter is.
