please, let me
She's taken to calling her dad every other day, sometimes more often.
And it's not like their lives are all that exciting. She's started reading the newspaper every afternoon on her lunch break, just to make sure she has something to talk about; something diverting to fill the silence, the meaning of which she is afraid to discover.
Sometimes they talk about her mother, and it always kills her, just a little. She doesn't tell him how often she speaks with her mom, and he doesn't ask. She feels like maybe he already knows, and then she feels guilty and old.
She stops herself from flat-out asking if he's been eating, but just barely. Instead she'll phrase it, "What'd you have for dinner?" If she's feeling particularly clever, she might pretend she's hungry and is looking for ideas. She's pretty sure he sees right through this. These are, after all, the same sorts of conversations he has with his father.
And she realizes this, suddenly, and thinks about how old this must make him feel--how doomed--and so she doesn't call for three days straight.
When she does call--on a Friday, feeling well-intentioned again, and having stored up things to say--he cannot disguise the relief in his voice.
And it's not like their lives are all that exciting. She's started reading the newspaper every afternoon on her lunch break, just to make sure she has something to talk about; something diverting to fill the silence, the meaning of which she is afraid to discover.
Sometimes they talk about her mother, and it always kills her, just a little. She doesn't tell him how often she speaks with her mom, and he doesn't ask. She feels like maybe he already knows, and then she feels guilty and old.
She stops herself from flat-out asking if he's been eating, but just barely. Instead she'll phrase it, "What'd you have for dinner?" If she's feeling particularly clever, she might pretend she's hungry and is looking for ideas. She's pretty sure he sees right through this. These are, after all, the same sorts of conversations he has with his father.
And she realizes this, suddenly, and thinks about how old this must make him feel--how doomed--and so she doesn't call for three days straight.
When she does call--on a Friday, feeling well-intentioned again, and having stored up things to say--he cannot disguise the relief in his voice.