45
CLAIRE
Ifreeze in Mom’s entryway, seconds from shouting my usual,Hi, Mom, listening to the low timbre of my father’s voice in one of the places I never expected to hear it.
We haven’t spoken since he came to my final home match pre-break. That was a brief exchange—him congratulating me on the win—Cassidy, Josh, and Tommy’s presence easing most of the awkwardness. Dad didn’t mention then, or anytime else, that he’d ever visited Echo Glen before. But his voice is unmistakable, low and calm, followed by my mom’s quiet laugh.
I slip out of my other sandal, rounding the corner barefoot.
They’re seated at the dining room table, surface littered with its usual piles of Mom’s notes, looking through a photo album.
“No, she was a fairy that year,” my dad says, then glances up and sees me.
“That’s right,” Mom replies. “Was it—” She notices Dad’s attention has drifted, then follows his gaze to me. “Claire!”
“Hi, Mom.” I shift my weight awkwardly, foot to foot. “It’s such a nice day. I was thinking you might want to go on a walk. But I—” I look at Dad, not sure what to say about his presence here.
“I have to finish this chapter.” She pats her laptop, set right next to the photo album. “Why don’t you two go without me?”
I’m not sure who’s more startled by the suggestion—me or my dad.
“Oh, no—” I start.
“That’s not—” Dad says at the same time.
We talk simultaneously, then stop in sync as well. I’m uncomfortably reminded of Cassidy’s comment—that Dad and I are awfully similar.
Mom is undeterred. “Go on. Like Claire said, it’s a beautiful day.” She gives me an encouraging nod.
She appears aware of the awkwardness between us. Like she’s living in the present or somewhere close to it today, which makes this even stranger. She hasn’t seemed to have forgotten that Dad and I don’t go on walks. We don’t do anything together.
We used to though. My right hand slips into the pocket of my shorts, fingering the coin. Cassidy was a fairy for several years during my zookeeper phase. I’m sure the old album he and Mom were just looking at is filled with photos of the two of us together. Probably some at the Detroit Zoo.
I clear my throat. “I… Sure. I have some time.”
My dad’s face lights up. “Me too.”
His obvious excitement makes me feel about two inches tall. Worse than my dad’s choices all those years ago is the growing realization that I played a huge role in our estrangement too. That I’ve never tried to forgive him, merely accepted our relationship was ruined beyond repair.
“Great.” Mom opens her laptop and begins typing, disappearing into a fictional world I’ve always been envious of.
I’m too practical to have the same imagination. Cassidy inherited that romanticism and wanderlust, but not me.
Dad and I don’t say much, trading simple comments like, “Left here,” and “After you,” as we walk Echo Glen’s windinghallways toward a set of doors that lead to the gardens. There’s a pond out here, too, where a family of ducks lives.
We walk along one of the paths, surrounded by the chirps of birds and errant pieces of conversation as we pass other visitors. The loudest sound is the crunch of gravel beneath our feet.
“Does Lindsey know you come here?” I finally ask.
“She does.”
“That doesn’t bother her?”
“She knows your mother and I have a…complicated relationship.”
I suppress a snort. What a concise way of framing cheating.
But I don’t say so because I know it will ruin this moment.
