Another pause. He doesn’t fill it with nervous dad jokes or awkward small talk. Just waits. Which... somehow makes it worse.
“I just, I wanted to say congrats,” he says. “Your mom told me about the project you’re part of. It sounds awesome.”
I blink. “She did?”
“Yeah. She said you and your teammate are killing it.”
“She said ‘killing it’?”
He chuckles. “Okay, no, she said ‘he’s doing well.’ I’m trying here.”
I exhale a soft laugh despite myself.
“I’m proud of you, kid.”
My jaw tightens.
“You weren’tthere,” I say quietly. “For any of it. Notschool. Not Tara’s plays. Not when Mom couldn’t get out of bed for three days straight.”
“I know,” he says immediately. “And I won’t pretend I have a good excuse for it. I messed up.A lot. I didn’t know how to show up, so I just... didn’t.”
His voice is raw and honest and for once, I don’t want to shout at him for that.
“I don’t need you to pretend like everything’s fine,” I tell him. “It’s not. But I guess…I don’t know. I guess I’m tired of pretending I don’t care.”
I hear him exhale. Long. Shaky.
“I care too,” he says. “And I want to fix what I can. If you let me.”
I nod, even though he can’t see it.
“We don’t have to have a beer and toss the football or whatever,” I mutter. “I’m not ready for some father-son redemption arc.”
“Wouldn’t expect one,” he says.
“But maybe... we can talk. Sometimes. About real stuff.”
“Like feelings?” he jokes.
“Don’t push it.”
He laughs. It’s not forced.
“Okay,” I say. “We’ll start with this.”
We stay on the phone for almost an hour, talking about nothing and everything—awkward silences, dumb jokes, old memories that don’t sting as much when we say them out loud. It’s not perfect. But it feels good. Easy. Like putting down a backpack full of bricks I forgot I was carrying.
When we hang up, I stare at the ceiling for a second, just... breathing.
Then my phone buzzes again, and I catch up on the flood of texts from Ethan that piled in while I was MIA.
ETHAN
No response? Okay. I guess I’ll make myself a piece of toast
Sad, boring toast
Wait, was that a ghost notification? Did you change your mind? I can hold off for burritos
