Page 142 of Hello Stranger

Ah. That.

“I wasn’t… okay.”

“Neither was I.”

“I was drinking a lot. Every night in my room.”

“I remember,” I said. “You’d lock the door.”

“And you’d sit outside in the hallway.”

I nodded. “And cry.”

My dad squeezed my hands, but he kept his head down. “I can still hear the sound of you crying. In my head. I can hear you calling for me, begging me to come out.”

“But you never did.”

My dad shook his head. “A doctor friend gave me some sleeping pills. I’d take them and pass out. It was the best I could do. It’s notan excuse. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I left you alone when you needed me. If I could go back in time, I would. I’d rip open that door and gather you up in my arms and say everything you needed to hear:You’re not alone. We’ll be okay. I love you.”

Then my dad pulled me into a hug, and I could feel that he was crying.

“I’m sorry, Sadie,” he said. “Your mom would hate me so much for how I failed you.”

My knee-jerk impulse was to say,You didn’t fail me.

But of course he had. Not just then, but after—over and over.

So instead I said, “But you’re here now. And you brought her favorite flowers.”

His voice was almost a whisper. “Of course.”

And then, with his bandaged hand, he broke one of the yellow marigolds out of my bouquet and tucked it behind my ear with the daisy.

Did this one moment magically make everything better?

No.

But it didn’t make things worse, either.

I’ll give it that.

And now whenever I see a marigold, I think of my mom, of course, as ever—but I think of my dad, too. Apologizing.

AFTER HE DROVEaway with Lucinda, I picked up my orchid from Mrs. Kim and then eyed the gallery entrance.

There were still forty-five minutes left.

A courageous person would return and stay till the end. But I wasn’t sure how courageous I was. It was one thing to not leave my post—it was another thing to be out and then force myself back in.

I might be a few guts short of the guts I needed to do that.

But I’d barely had time to consider that before, in rapid succession, I got that primal feeling of someone watching me, turned to see who it was, and caught a fraction of a glimpse of Parker, edging around the corner, out of sight.

She was still here.

Lingering at the scene of one of her many crimes.

I took a few steps in that direction, thinking she was running away and I might chase after her. But then I saw her shadow on the sidewalk. She hadn’t run away. She was just hiding.

---