—Navy shorts and spotty tank
—Red two-piece
—White flip-flops (lost one at the lake)
IMPORTANT:
Police found Jonas’s kidnappers (they are “cooperating,” whatever that means). Mom already told Dad. She’s emotional but that’s understandable. So am I. I stared at an age-progressed picture of Jonas for an hour, trying to remember him. Didn’t work, but there’s something there… not sure what it is.
Other stuff:
—Spent all day with Luke… floated on inner tubes at the lake. Made out a little in the water… and in the van… and in my room until Mom came home.
—Jamie’s in L.A. until next week
—Call Dad
Nerves rage through me as I slowly, carefully dial.
This is our third phone call—the third of what I know will be many more. I woke up this morning remembering bits of him, but I know from notes those memories are new.
I hit the last number, and feel like I might throw up at the sound of the first tinny ring. Another sound, and I check the door to make sure it’s shut. A third, and I wonder if he forgot.
Then he’s there.
“Hello?” says a deep, gravelly voice that makes me both happy and sad at the same time. We’re rebuilding our relationship, both in real time and in my memories, but I can’t help but feel his underlying heartache.
“Hi, Dad. How are you?”
“I’m just fine, Pumpkin. What’s new with you?”
He does that, I’ve noticed: diverts the conversation to me. He doesn’t talk about himself; not yet, at least.
But he will.
I rub my fingers over the delicate beetle brooch that was my grandmother’s. A note from last week said that it arrived in the mail shortly after our last phone call. Apparently he wanted me to have something of hers.
He could have just saved it and brought it with him when he visits at the end of the summer. It will be brief, but he’ll come.
He doesn’t know that yet, but I do.
“Not a lot is new on my end,” I say breezily. “Just hanging out. Enjoying the summer.”
“That’s good,” he says.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, Pumpkin?”
“Are you okay?”
“Of course I am,” he says quickly, as if fathers can’t be upset. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that my note today said Mom called you… about Jonas’s kidnappers.” I feel funny talking about Mom; I know by the way Dad will look at her at my graduation that he still loves her deeply.
“Your note said that, huh?” Dad asks with a strange tone to his voice. My condition is still weird for him. He hasn’t lived with it for all these years.