He pauses. “Well, I’m calling, right?”
My heart swells. I try to respond, but no sound comes out when I open my mouth. My wipers clear dirty splashes of melted snow and sediment being kicked up by the sedan in front of me, but my vision blurs anyway.
“Taylor? You there?” he asks.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“I just—”
“What?”
“Can you come over?”
“When? Now?”
“Yeah. I mean, if you’re busy—”
“No,” I reply. “Not busy. I can come.” The clock glows 7:55 p.m. “Are you okay?”
“I’m just exhausted. It’s been a long day, and I’m out of it, and I can tell it’s upsetting Brett.”
Brett. His daughter.
“I would’ve called my parents,” he continues. “But they’re away this week on a cruise. They booked it months ago, before all this happened.”
I gulp, nodding to myself. “I can be there in 30 minutes. Should I bring anything?”
“No. Thank you, though. I’m sorry. I really didn’t want to—”
“Stop. I’m glad you called. I mean, I’m not glad you’re not feeling well, but, well, you know—”
“I know,” he assures me.
“I’ll be right there.”
“Thanks, Taylor.”
The drive probably takes the whole half hour, but my head spins so fast I don’t feel the time pass. I park in front of the driveway this time, blocking both cars.
I ring the doorbell, rubbing my hands together for warmth.
The door opens and before me stands a small girl with a dark ponytail and brown, curious eyes flanked by the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen, magnified by a pair of pink-rimmed glasses. Her rosy lips are pursed in a way that makes me wonder whether the girl is angry or sad. She's wearing jeans and a purple hoodie, and I wonder if the child should be in pajamas given the time. Her little arms are folded across her chest, creating a stance that I remember all too well from my youth. Armor. False strength.
“Hi,” I say quietly, offering my hand to the girl.
Her shoulders sag, but she doesn’t accept the handshake. “Hi,” she concedes. “Are you Daddy’s friend?”
“I am. My name’s Taylor. Can I come in?”
Matt’s daughter steps out of the doorway, allowing me enough space to enter the house.
“You must be Brett,” I continue.
She nods.
“That’s a pretty name.”
Brett shrugs.
