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“She taught herself to spell first,” I say. “Went right from the alphabet song to phonics to spelling everything out loud, and then once she could spell she picked up Fox in Socks and read it to me. Didn’t miss a single word.”
“I bet you were proud of her.”
I was. I always have been.
Caroline flattens her hands against my chest and leans back to look me in the eye.
“She doesn’t need another father,” she says. “She’s got you.”
“I’m just her brother.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m her guardian.”
“Jesus, you’re stubborn.” Caroline steps away, turns to face the car, and points at Frankie. “Look at her,” she says. “Look at that girl and tell me you don’t know every single thing about her.”
“She didn’t tell me about Clint.”
“She’s ten,” Caroline says. “That’s old enough for secrets. But I met your mom, and I saw where you grew up. I’ve talked to your sister. I’ve seen her with you. You’re her father, whether you like it or not. You’ve been her father since the day your mom brought her home from the hospital. Look at her.”
I look.
I look for what feels like an hour.
I can’t tell Caroline she’s wrong.
I don’t know what Frankie’s writing about, but I know the way she nibbles on her lip when she’s got a pen in her hand. She gnaws the skin off that lip, and when it’s cold and dry out it cracks sometimes and bleeds, and I’ve got to get after her to put Carmex on it so it’ll heal.
I’d give my life for her without hesitating. Anytime. Any day. Under any circumstances.
That’s how it is, and Caroline’s right that it doesn’t matter what some piece of paper says. Me and my sister belong to each other deeper than words on paper, deeper than I can find the words to say out loud.
She’s my kid.
I guess that means I’m her father.
What a fucking terrifying thought.
“I don’t know what to do for her,” I say.
“So you learn.”
“I don’t know how to start.”
“Quit being such a baby. Read a parenting book. Read twenty, if it makes you feel better.”
“It’s not just parenting, though, it’s this stuff.” I gesture at the playground. “Enrichment. Art classes. It never crossed my mind to worry about that.”
“That’s what Jeff’s for.”
“No, that’s my point. I’m saying, we’re living here like we lived in Silt. We’re surviving, because that’s all I know how to do. Jeff hears about Clint and the bus and the sick shit that kid said to my sister, and he doesn’t think about punching someone. He tells me, Yeah, that’s terrible, but we’re gonna handle it. What I’m worried about is how we can make your sister’s life richer. Richer! What the fucking fuck?”
She’s frowning at me.
“Richer,” I say again, dropping the word like a hammer. “Fuller. More beautiful. That’s not surviving, it’s something else. It’s thriving. I don’t know how to do that.”
Caroline butts her head into my chest, hard.
