Dad follows me downstairs, but not before he tells me to show him the rest of the house.

I take him into my bedroom and wait while he opens the closet door to look in. I wonder if he's assessing whether the spending allowance he sends me suffices to keep me clothed properly. He must think so, as he makes no comment and closes the door quietly behind him.

We continue with a tour that doesn't take long considering the house is made up of only two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom, a kitchen, and an unfinished basement where the landlord set up the laundry machines.

The whole way through, his dark eyes take in everything around him as if he's making a mental list of what he'll need to send me to make the place livable.

In the kitchen, he pulls out a chair at the table, but when I go to the counter to put the groceries away he says, "Don't. Sit down."

Dad gets to the point as soon as I've sunk down in front of him. "You missed two weeks of school."

If this was Mom, she would start with small talk, commenting on the house, and talking about the people in town we've met. But not Dad. He understands what his time is worth and never wastes it.

"Is that why you're here?" I ask.

"Why else?"

It's true. My brain knows it, but my stomach still contracts like I've been hit.

Why else would he be here?

On the rare occasion, when he wants to see me, he arranges for a car to drive me to Toronto. His driving to Eyre and Bantry a few times was an anomaly and partly because he couldn't get a hold of Mom to arrange it. Besides, he normally avoids any interactions with Cassie.

Which reminds me of the scene upstairs. "What happened with Cassie?" I ask, distracting him from his question to me. "Why were you in her room?"

Dad frowns and at first, I think he won't answer. "She came limping down the street, just as I pulled up." he finally says. "I helped her upstairs. We were alone for five minutes before you came home." As he finishes his words, he stares down at his hands.

I wonder if he's thinking about how much she looks like Mom. It's one of the things he says that makes it difficult to be around her. Too many memories surface. It's a reminder too, that Mom left him and not the other way around.

Dad once described Mom's magnetism. He said Mom could walk into any room, and no matter how many beautiful women were gathered together, all eyes would be on her.

Maybe Cassie gives off the same vibes.

I've seen it more than once. We'd be on the street and some random guy would say hi to Cassie and when she'd say hi back, with a smile, he'd be all over her-walking with us, trying to get her to go for a coffee.

All that expectation from that one paltry word.

We both stop at the sound of Cassie thumping down the stairs. She must be putting all her weight on one leg because it sounds like she's hopping. We wait as she makes her way to the kitchen. When she enters, Dad's gaze falls on her taking in how she's changed into her loose forest green jogging pants and a gray T-shirt.

She sees me sitting there and nothing on the stove and frowns.

"Sit," Dad says, averting his eyes from her. "I need to speak to both of you."

Cassie obeys, taking the chair next to mine. She doesn't offer him a drink, knowing like me he won't take one.

"Leila missed the first two weeks of school and then last Friday, she missed school again." His dark eyes fall on her.

"Explain."

[Authors' Note:

Copyright ©2024 by Danica P. Costa

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. The copyright holder retains all the rights provided by copyright law, such as distribution, performance, and creation of their work.]