I glance over at her, the city lights smearing across her profile as we speed down the freeway. Malia takes after me in a lot of ways, and one of those ways is her ability to read people like a book. It sucks when the tables are turned, when I'm the one being read instead of doing the reading. Her gaze lingers on me for a moment too long, those intelligent eyes—so much like her mother's—narrowing slightly as if she's cataloging every micro-expression, every subtle shift in my posture that I've spent years mastering to hide from the world. I can feel her probing, dissecting, and suddenly I'm hyper-aware of the tension in my shoulders, the way my fingers grip the steering wheel just a fraction too tight. The car feels too small, too confined, with her knowing presence filling every corner.
I've taught her too well, I realize with a pang of something like regret. She's learned from the master how to spot the cracks in someone's carefully constructed facade, and now she's turning that skill on me.
"Seriously," she presses. "And how come you haven't talked much about your TV project? You usually never shut up about work."
I sigh. "It's going well. Gary's on it. Todd's on it. Just dumb improv stuff, nothing special."
"This is the Relay show, right?"
"Yep."
"Did they find a new co-host after you got punched? So embarrassing, by the way."
My fingers tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles going white. "Yeah."
"What's his name? How's it going?"
I bite my lip. Shit.
"Andy. The matter progresses favorably."
She finally looks up from her phone, eyebrows knitting together. "...The matter progresses favorably?"
"Yes."
She laughs and rolls her eyes, the sound sharp in the confined space. "Oh my God, you're being so fucking weird, Dad."
"How?" I blurt out, the word escaping before I can stop it.
"You never shut up, and now you're barely talking. It's definitely because of Andy, isn't it?"
I tighten my grip on the wheel, and her grin widens.
"Holy shit, itisbecause of Andy!"
"Andy is doing a fine job. Things are fine. It's all fine. I don't know what you're trying to pull out of me, sweetheart."
Her eyes are locked on the side of my face, and I hate how much she's enjoying this.
"Are you just making fun of him all day? Please tell me you're not torturing some poor guy who's just trying to work."
"No," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "He's good. He plays along, makes it funny. Honestly, I think it'll edit great. And he's not even into acting, he's just doing it for the paycheck. He's a yoga instructor."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"He's a yoga instructor."
The heat crawls up my neck, flooding my face. My ears are on fire. Malia's smirk stretches impossibly wide, a predator that's just cornered its prey.
"Wow, Dad."
"What?"
"Nothing." Her eyes gleam with unspoken questions as she turns back to her phone, leaving me to stew in my own embarrassment.
I've never explicitly told my daughters I'm bi, but it's not the first time I've suspected Malia knows. She's always been too perceptive for her own good, picking up on the little things I try to keep buried. As she gets older, the questions she doesn't ask become more telling than the ones she does. Her eyes follow me sometimes when I think no one's watching, cataloging my reactions, filing away information for future use. It's a gift, really, the way she reads people, but right now, in this car, it feels more like a curse. I can feel her brain working, connecting dots I've carefully scattered, and I wonder what picture she's forming in that brilliant mind of hers. The thought makes my throat go dry, and I have to force myself to keep breathing, to keep my eyes on the road, to pretend I don't feel her gaze burning a hole in the side of my head.
"Dad, just do me a favor and don't embarrass me. My friends all watch your stuff. I'm trying to live my life here." The words come out sharp, edged with the kind of teenage exasperation I've grown accustomed to but still can't quite predict. I glance over at her, at the way her fingers fly across her phone screen, at the determined set of her jaw that reminds me so much of her mother when she's digging her heels in about something.
