She smiles, then turns to Cassidy. “Did the bouncy house get delivered?”
“It sure did. Thank you again. Tommy is thrilled. I haven’t been able to drag him out of there all morning.”
“What about the extra tables?” Lindsey asks. “Did the layout I mapped out work?”
“I think so,” Cassidy replies. “But I wanted you to look at whether some should be farther from the swing set.”
Lindsey nods, heading for the sliding doors that lead onto the deck. “I thought about that. Maybe we should…” The rest of her sentence trails as Cassidy follows her outside and shuts the door.
Leaving me and my dad alone.
I fiddle with the knife I was using to spread the frosting. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hello, Claire.” He approaches the island slowly. He’s dressed up, same as Lindsey, wearing slacks and a button-down.
My current attire—Siege T-shirt and ratty sweatpants—isn’t helping me feel any more mature. In my defense, I took a metal pole to the forehead last night. But I should probably sneak upstairs and put on a dress, before kids and their parents start to arrive.
I clear my throat, so we’re not standing in silence, then bang the knife against the bowl for the same reason.
When I glance up, Dad is staring at the recipe card on the counter.
“Haven’t had one of those cakes in a while,” he comments quietly.
“Me neither.” I use up the last of the frosting, setting the bowl and the knife in the sink.
“Could I talk to you out on the sunporch for a minute?”
I still, searching for an excuse. I have to change, I have to check on something, I have to… I deflate, deciding it’s better to get this conversation over with. “Yeah. Sure.”
Cassidy seems settled, with her job and with Josh. Tommy is making friends. He’s playing T-ball now and talking about starting soccer in the fall. It would surprise me if they moved again soon. Maybe ever. There are going to be more birthday parties. More holidays. The sooner Dad and I find some way to coexist, the better, and having this conversation is one step closer to civility.
I follow him into the small room off the kitchen. Mom’s desk remains tucked in one corner, but the surface is no longer covered with papers. They were all sorted months ago, either recycled or transported to Echo Glen with her.
Aside from the desk, two armchairs are the only furniture out here. I sit in the left one; my dad takes the right.
“Cassidy said you were injured during yesterday’s game.”
I nod. “It’s not a big deal. I just bumped a goalpost. No concussion.”
Dad’s frowning, looking concerned. Looking like…a parent. He came to all of my games in high school after the divorce even though I refused to acknowledge him. Yet I never told him when I signed with the Siege. I’m not sure how he found out. Cassidy probably.
For the first time, I regret that. He should have heard it from me.
The awkwardness between us is stifling, expanding to fill the small room.
“Are you okay?” I finally blurt.
I really, really can’t deal with a second sick parent.
My dad’s face creases with confusion, then smooths with understanding. “I’m fine, Claire. Perfectly healthy, as far as I know.”
I nod, relaxing deeper into the cushions. “Good.”
Dad exhales. “Cassidy told me about your mother’s diagnosis.”
“I know.”
“You should have told me, Claire.”
