Page 14 of Wonderstruck

Really? What karmic offence did Icommit to deserve an ambush call from him of all people? Did I accidentally step on a fairy circle or offend some cosmic force? Because this feels personal.

I really shouldn’t be surprised. Thisis just what Dad does. When Daisy and I are home for holidays or summer, he’ll slip back into his old habits like they’re his favourite quarter-zip fleece, going about his days almost as if we aren’t there. With Grandpa close by, he feels secure enough to disappear into his fucked up way of grieving, like the safety net was there if anything happened to us.

But the second we left the state, itwas as if his panic kicked in. Like his wires have crossed and Daisy and I were suddenly all he could think about.

Shouldn’t that have felt reassuring? To know there was something left inhim, some sliver of care underneath all those toxic layers?

Probably. But instead, it just left usmore confused.

Part of me could help wonder if it was whatever love he had left for us simply spurring to life in the rare,almost non-existent moments when he wasn’t consumed by eight different spirits. Part of me wondered whether his paranoia was a side effect of his mind drowning in alcohol, and not him choosing to make things right and start showing up for us.

But I couldn’t let myself go there. Not now. Not if I wanted to drag myself topractice later with anything close to a clear head and actually, you know, practice.

His voice echoed in the corners of my mind, as the buzzing in my hand broughtmy eyes back down to the screen, the debate team that lived in my roars to life.

I should answer it. Something could have happened.

Grandpa would have called you if something was wrong. Ignore it.

What if he needs me?

When has he ever needed you?

But—

Ignore it. He’ll forget you exist in ten minutes.

Before long, the screen fades, replaced by my screensaver—a fully zoomed-outshot of all seven of us crammed together at the pizza place two blocks down, laughing and leaning into each other. I didn’t know if it was seeing that picture, or realising that I didn’t have to choose between answering and ignoring, but the breath I’d been holding finally eased out of my chest.

But then, the old, familiar tug of guilt crept in, cold and quiet and always without me having time to prepare for it.

Like she could sense thoughts beggining to spiral, my phone buzzed, lighting up with a textfrom Daisy.

my better half??

today at 16:06pm

did he call?

I sighed, sitting up straighter and swinging my legs off the couch, feet planted firmly on the ground.

yeah, he called.

did you answer?

no. you?

nope.

I shook my head before I typed back.

liar.

Her reply was instant.

okay i’m a liar.

why dais? why did you answer?

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