Page 16 of Our Secret Moments

“Hi, dad. I’m glad you called,” I say into the phone, resting it against my ear as I look out to the frosted mountains where I spent most of my summers and winters as a kid. I wonder if my dad remembers the time he, mom, and I went for a hike and were fully convinced we saw James Marsden trekking down.

“Are you?” He just loves to make things difficult.

“Yeah…?” I say, my voice heavy with concern and uncertainty. “What’s up?”

My dad never calls unless there’s been a problem or he suddenly remembers he has a daughter who only lives an hour away from him. Mostly, I don’t mind. But seeing the relationship my friends have with their parents, I’m a little envious that my dad doesn’t calljust because.He doesn’t call because he’s randomly thinking about me, or if he’s stumbled across one of my baby pictures.

“Checking how the semester is going,” he says simply. I hear him typing in the background. Of course he can’t take a few minutes out of his day to call his daughter with no distractions. Work always comes first.

It’s also coming towards the end of September, so I’ve been in school for over a month now, but he doesn’t know that apparently.

“It’s going okay. My grades are good and I'm alive, so I guess everything is great. How are—”

“Great,” he says, cutting me off. I take a deep breath, trying my best not to get upset or angry. “Well, I wanted to ask who is the person who is emailing me about attending a football game? You know I don't do that.”

“Oh, it’s just Coach Mackenzie. You remember him, don’t you? He was asking me about it when—”

“Why were you talking to him? You're not on the football team.”

Deep breaths are doing nothing for me right now.

“Well, if you could let me finish my sentence, maybe you’d understand,” I bite out. There is nothing but silence on the other end. It’s rare that I ever snap at my dad like that. “I’m writing the newspaper and blog for Titans Daily. The opportunity came up in class and no one wanted to go for it. I thought it would look good on my CV.”

I’m bending the truth a little, trying to make it seem like this is a choice. This is supposed to be a power move of some sorts. A new era. A new challenge.

“Well, there's a reason no one wants to do it. Nobody cares about college football, Catherine.”

“That's the thing. I’m going to change it up a little," I say, waiting for a snarky response, but I don’t get one. this is my chance. “I’ve planned out a few things and—”

”I’m sorry, Indira is calling me into a meeting. We'll talk another time, darling. Love you.”

“I love—” The cell ends and the ache in my chest deepens. “I love you too,” I say to nobody.

I walk back over to the girls, painting on my best face as they lay down on the blanket staring up at the sky. When they see me, Nora leans up on her elbow, frowning at me.

“Why the long face?” She asks. I lift up my phone as an answer. “Papa Fables giving you a hard time?” I nod. “Jeez, what is it with parents today?”

I shrug, taking a seat next to them, pulling my crochet needles and wool from my bag, resting them in my lap. Elle sits up too, crossing her legs.

“He’s just busy,” I say, shrugging again and looking out onto the sunset as if it’s not a big deal. I don’t know why I’m still making excuses for him.

“It’s a Sunday afternoon. What could he possibly be busy with?” Nora asks, sounding more upset than I am. Sometimes I think she feels everybody else's pain more than her own and she takes on that extra load. Maybe it’s an acting thing. I don’t know.

“Pilates?” Elle suggests and the tension in my body immediately starts to smooth out as I laugh at the idea of my dad doing any kind of yoga.

When Nora’s initial anger simmers down and she joins in on the laugh, I try to push all the negative feelings aside and just enjoy my time with the girls. As much as my dad can get under my skin, I’d be damned if I let him enjoy the things I love the most — my best friends, sunset, crocheting and books.

Sometimes, I feel like I need nothing more.

EIGHT

CAT/CONNOR

“IT’S CALLED EDGING.”

CAT

I wishedsomeone could give me more of a helping hand with this new project. I wish Coach Mackenzie had not just left the room, saying nothing but ‘good luck’ and gave me a double thumbs up. I wish Rotford had given me some sort of direction to where to take this instead of leaving me in the dark.

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