Page 131 of Bump and Run

“Yes,” Ty answers. “Well, kind of. Bob is taking over and he’s nailing it so far, in you ask me.”

Junior nods. “He’s doing great, yeah. Not surprising, though, he’s been around forever and he knows what he’s doing.”

Bonnie sighs to pull attention back on her. “Okay — fast forward to spring and we’re right back to square one,” she says, gesturing with zeal. “What are you going to do with the baby then?”

Roy finally chimes in. “Bonnie, the kids have made their decision.”

“But they have better options.”

“I’m sure they’ve considered every single option available to them and they’ve decided, together, to do what they feel is best for them and their family.”

“But they don’t—”

“Remember when Maggie was born and how you used to complain about my mother not leaving us alone?”

Her jaw drops and the room cringes. “This is completely different…”

“No, it’s not.”

The doorbell rings and Junior shoots up off the couch. “I’ll get it!”

“Don’t leave me…” I whine.

He grins and drops my hand, abandoning me to fend for myself.

“Eliza…” Roy says, looking at me. “We’re just a phone call away if you two need anything. You know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Anything at all,” Bonnie says.

I smile. “Thank you. Really, though, we’re fine. We’ve figured out our routine and I don’t expect any big surprises to come knocking anytime soon.”

“Ellie…”

I look up at Junior and pause, catching sight of the familiar face lingering behind him in the open doorway.

My father.

I stand up, driven by shock but I can’t bring myself to step any closer.

He looks at me over Junior’s shoulder with soft eyes and a long expression, neither of which I’ve ever seen on him before. It’s strange, almost foreign, like an alien wearing his face as a mask. I don’t feel an ounce of hatred or fear of him. I thought I would if I ever saw him again.

“I would like to talk to my daughter in private, please,” he says.

Junior doesn’t budge. “That’s up to her.”

“Junior…” He turns to me and I nod. “It’s okay.” I push forward through the silent room and Junior steps aside, his eyes asking me for reassurance and I nod again. “We can go out back.”

My father walks in and scans the room, vastly outnumbered. “Hello,” he says, nodding awkwardly at their wide, unblinking eyes.

I always forget how much of a celebrity my father is. Even after everything he’s done, it’s difficult for them not to look at him like that; Junior being the obvious exception in the room. There’s a subtle anger hidden behind his calm, brown eyes.

“Come on.” I lead my father through the house to the backyard, feeling Junior’s watchful stare on me the entire time — even after closing the door behind us but I can’t spot him at all in the windows.

Silence falls between us despite months of planning what I’d say to him. All the anger and frustration I imagined melts away and it’s mostly pity that takes their place.

He seems older, more wrinkled, and he hasn’t shaved in days from the look of his scruff.

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