“Most people don’t seem to like their dads much.” She leaned into me, her shoulder against mine.
I knew we were both thinking about my dad, but we had never been good at talking about him.
“I wonder if you would have clashed with your father.” I didn’t say anything.
“He would’ve understood you, that’s for sure. He got your whys in a way I never could.
But he was such a worrier, and you might have found that exhausting. I know I did, sometimes.”
“You worry, too,” I said. “I suppose. Mostly about you.” “I don’t mind worriers,” I said.
Worrying is the correct worldview. Life is worrisome.” “You sound just like him.” She smiled a little.
I still can’t believe he left us.” She said it like it was a decision,
like he’d been mowing the lawn that day and thought, I think I’ll fall down dead now.
I cooked dinner that night, a macaroni scramble with canned vegetables, boxed macaroni, and some proper cheddar cheese,
and then we ate while watching a reality show about regular people trying to survive in the wild.
My phone finally buzzed while Mom and I were doing the dishesDaisy telling me she’d arrived at Applebee’s—
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