I like how his eyes light up when I ask dumb questions about his yoga studio plans, even though I barely grasp the business side of things. His ambition, his passion, his drive to be more. All of these qualities shine through, making him incredible in ways I can't fully articulate.
God, he is incredible. And somehow, I don't feel worthy of him.
"You better not be making eggs and bacon after I texted you three days ago that I'm vegan now, Dad," Malia's groggy voice calls from the stairs, the words thick with sleep and accusation.
"You can eat the toast," I call back, the spatula scraping against the pan. "Tina and I will handle the eggs and bacon."
She appears in the doorway, glaring, her frame silhouetted against the morning light. "You probably toasted non-vegan bread with butter on top, didn't you? How is that fair? Why are you being such an asshole, Dad?"
The spatula clatters into the pan, grease spattering as I spin around. "What the hell did you just say to me?"
"You heard me." She grabs her purse from the entryway, her stare a direct challenge.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm gonna go hang out with Devon and get some actual food for breakfast," Malia says, slinging her purse over her shoulder with dramatic flair, the movement sharp.
"Why don't you invite Devon over? Have him bring something," I suggest, trying to keep my tone even, the words tasting like ash.
"Why? So you can embarrass the hell out of me by ruining it somehow? Devon's vegan too, you know."
Before I can respond, Tina wanders out of her room, looking like she's had the best sleep of her life. "Oh my God, it smells so fucking good in here! Wait... is something burning?"
"Nothing's burning," I say quickly, even though the faint smell of over-toasted bread still hangs in the air, a ghost of my incompetence.
"You girls need to stop swearing so much, or you're gonna get me in trouble," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. The gray strands seem to multiply every weekend, a visible record of my stress. I can almost feel them sprouting as I stand there, watching my oldest daughter challenge my sanity.
"Boys don't like it when girls swear all the time, you know."
Malia rolls her eyes so hard I think they might get stuck, then grabs a magazine from the counter near the door and lobs it at me. I dodge it, staring at her in disbelief, the glossy pages fluttering to the floor.
"Oh my God... Malia!" Tina's jaw drops as she grins. "I can't believe you just threw something at him."
Malia smirks, clearly enjoying her younger sister's admiration, the tilt of her chin a clear victory.
"You're setting a terrible example for your sister right now," I scowl, pointing an accusing finger at her.
"You're treating me like a child, so I'm acting like a child for you." Her voice is calm, but her eyes are locked on mine, daring me to respond.
Then she grabs my car keys from the entryway, the metal jingling softly in her hand.
"Malia, don't you dare take my car again!" I yell, all attempts at keeping calm abandoned, the words sharp in the quiet kitchen.
She holds the keys up, taunting me, the metal catching the light. "Guess I'll act like an adult and go get breakfast. Bye."
"Malia!" I shout as she opens the front door, the sound echoing in the sudden silence.
She steps outside without hesitation, letting the door swing shut behind her, the click of the latch a final, definitive sound.
I stand there, stunned, staring at the empty space where she'd been. The air still hums with her defiance, the echo of the door clicking shut reverberating through the kitchen.
Tina, still grinning, casually grabs a piece of toast from the table, her movements languid in the aftermath of Malia's storm. She takes a bite, the crunch loud in the sudden quiet.
"Bold move, Dad," she says, shaking her head, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Really solid parenting right there."
I groan, the sound tearing from my throat as I sink into one of the kitchen chairs, the wood groaning beneath me. "Remind me why I wanted kids."
Tina shrugs, a delicate lift of her shoulders that feels both dismissive and knowing. "Because Mom convinced you it'd be fun?"
