Page 94 of Gave Proof Through the Night

“We only open for Girl Scout cookies.”

Door shuts.

I back off the step, try to get an angle on the one window facing the street. It’s so small and so high that I can’t see in. I knock a third time, softer, mostly out of stubbornness.

“Please. I just need to know she’s okay.”

Nothing happens for a long time. Long enough that I've almost raised my hand to knock a fourth time when I hear the sound of chain sliding, and the door finally opens, slow, only a few inches.

Erica keeps her body angled into the narrow space, one hand braced against the door like she’s got no plans to open it any further. Streaks run down both cheeks, both dried and fresh, and her eyes are red and swollen at the rims.

My heart breaks instantly. I reach through the gap and pull her the rest of the way out to me, tucking her head under my chin right there on the stoop.

“I came as soon as I could. What happened?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Just breathes against my chest in short, hitching pulls that make my arms tighten on instinct. When she finally gets words out, half of them get lost somewhere between her mouth and my shirt.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I should’ve…”

A hiccup swallows the rest of it.

“Erica. Talk to me.”

“If you want to leave, that’s…” Another hitch, her whole body shaking against mine. “You don’t have to explain it. I get it. I’ll give the cards back. I haven’t even used them, they’re still in the envelope, you can have them, I don’t need them.”

“Erica.” I pull back enough to see her face, hands on her shoulders. “What cards? Nobody’s asking for anything back. Slow down.”

She shakes her head like slowing down isn’t a thing she knows how to do right now. Presses the heel of her hand under one eye, smearing more than she wipes.

“I’m not good enough for you.” She says it like a fact she’s tired of arguing with.

“Hey now, hold on. I’m here now. Is your dad okay?”

I know she adores her dad, and whatever happened to him, I want to support her. “Do you need to go see him? Because I can get you on a flight today. Right now. Whatever you need.”

“You’d do that.” Not really a question. Something in her face breaks further, like the offer itself is what’s undoing her.

“Of course I’d do that. Talk to me. What happened?”

“You happened.”

“Me?” I’m not following.

“Yes!” she cries through what’s probably snot clogging her words. “You. You and your Ted Lasso puppy energy.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. You texted, I came. Your dad…”

“Exactly!” A fresh fit bubbles up and she’s sobbing into my shirt again.

I am utterly, and completely confused.

“I should’ve told you before. I kept thinking there’d be a better time. A right time to tell you. I mean, when is it ever a good time to say, ‘Hey, my dad’s a jailbird and I’m a loser.’?”

She stops herself, presses her lips together so hard they go white.

Wait.

“Erica.” I pull back another inch, need to see her whole face for this part. “Let me get this straight. This didn’t just happen today?”