Page 28 of Dating After the End of the World
I nod and barely meet his gaze. I’m too guilt-ridden to look at him in this moment. To let him see what my eyes will certainly betray. I put my own feelings first, never considering what it meant to him. Cutting him out was my way of punishing my father, because I felt like that was what he had done to me. It was always about preparing for the end of the world, and there was never time to just live in it.
“Hey, Dale!” a woman’s voice calls from behind me.
We break apart, and I turn to see a smiling woman tossing a final piece of clothing from her arms over a thick string hanging between two trees. Her dirty-blonde hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail and her cheeks are bright red. Whether that’s from the slight cold in the air or just her natural color, it’s perfectly in place for the comely, round face now approaching us.
“Hello, Helen,” my dad says, as though he’s just taking a stroll through his neighborhood and spotted a friend he’s greeted a hundred times before.
“And who is this beautiful young lady?” she asks.
“This is my daughter, Casey.”
Her face brightens even more, and her eyes develop a slight sheen to them.
“Oh, Dale! I’m so happy for you,” she says, still smiling. It’s clear my dad has talked a lot about me, and from her reaction, she most likely thought he was never going to see me again.
“It’s great to meet you.” She beams, but there’s a seriousness in her eyes that tells me there’s more to her than this cheery routine.
“Nice to meet you too, Helen. I think you’re the most cheerful person I’ve met in the apocalypse,” I say with a laugh.
She turns, glancing around like a thief making sure the coast is clear before she meets my gaze and lets out a heavy sigh. “Oh, I just do this for my boys,” she whispers. “They kind of know what’s going on, but my husband, my parents, and I have tried to shield them from most of it. So we’re treating this like we’re at permanent summer camp, and if it looks like I’m happy and having fun, then maybe ...” Helen looks down at her feet, shaking her head as she searches for the words within her, before meeting my gaze—the smile has returned to where it just was. “Well, anyway, if it weren’t for your father, I’m not sure I’d have a family anymore.”
Before I can respond, a man comes out of one of the cabins behind her, walking toward us with a tight smile. He’s around six feet tall with a bowl haircut, and he wears his lean and muscular figure like a suit he’s borrowed from someone else. But what really sticks out are his eyes. It’s not the color of them, as they’re an unremarkable shade of brown. It’s the heavy, deep-purple bags resting below them and the red veins splitting and cracking in all directions across the whites of his eyes. This man doesn’t sleep ... at least, not anymore.
“Chris, I want you to meet my daughter, Casey.”
He steps to me, extending a dry, calloused hand. His eyes begin to moisten but not with sadness. They’re the kind of tears that form when you stifle a yawn so as not to seem rude during a conversation. They well to capacity and tumble down his face, leaving darkened streaks across his parched skin. He doesn’t even notice until his wife quickly dries them for him.
“It’s nice to meet you, Casey,” Chris says, shaking my hand. “Where’d you come in from?”
“Chicago.”
“Wow, that must have been—”
“Hell,” I say.
“Yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I can’t even imagine.”
“How did you all end up here?” I ask.
Chris stuffs his hands in his pockets, shuffling his feet. “We were headed up to Helen’s parents’ lake house near Tomahawk, and our car broke down over on Highway 19. We couldn’t get any cell service, and I figured we were just in a dead zone. I left my family and my in-laws in the car and started walking, looking for a gas station or a nearby house. Had no idea what had happened to the world, until I stumbled upon this place. Dale told me, and then he took us in. Myself, Helen, and my boys are in one cabin, and Helen’s parents are in the other.” He looks to my dad, his face showing nothing but admiration and gratitude for saving them. It’s a look I’m sure my father wanted to see on my face for years, instead of the irritation and resentment that were building stronger and deeper with every passing moment. Now, seeing what our work has done for these two, what my dad’s unrelenting perseverance has done to keep a family whole, I can’t help but see him as less of the villain and more of the hero.
The somber but gracious moment is broken by the sound of high-pitched voices and two boys no older than twelve sprinting out of the cabin. “Dad! Dad! Can we play catch now?” the one with a football tucked under his arm shouts.
I greet both of them and introduce myself. They’re timid, partially hiding behind their father and mother. Their father ruffles their matching bowl haircuts and tells them to say hi, and in unison, they do. At their age, I was prepping for this, and now they’re living in it. I’d call it ironic, but I really don’t know what it is.
Chris takes the football from his son and tells his kids to go long. They take off running, while he steps away and launches it through the air. It lands short of the boys, most likely due to his exhaustion. He smiles and nods, telling me it was nice meeting me before joining his children.
Helen echoes his sentiment and returns to her basket of clothes that still need to be hung out to dry.
“See ya around,” Dad says with a wave as we continue with our walk.
“It’s great what you’ve done for them.”
He glances over at me. “It wasn’t just me. It was us.”
“But I wasn’t even here.”
“You didn’t need to be, Case. We built this place together, so everyone that’s here and safe is because of whatwedid.”
