Page 114 of Play Nice

“Good.” He takes a deep breath, and I brace myself. “I would like you to stay here, with me and Amy. Temporarily. If you need to work, I’ll drive you into the city, and I’ll drive you back here. I’ve scheduled an appointment with a family therapist for this Friday afternoon. Daphne and Leda have agreed to come. They’re staying through the weekend, and I hope you will, too. I’m asking.”

He looks at me, and he’s my dad again. The captain of the ship, steady and reliable, who would do anything for me and my sisters. Who braided our hair for dance recitals, who came to every school function, who would take us to the mall and give us carte blanche, waiting patiently on a bench with a biography and a coffee while we shopped.

It could be that everything he’s done has been motivated purely and genuinely by his love for us. It could be that he’s a possessive, self-serving asshole who was a shitty husband to Mom, who held no compassion for her, who erased her from our lives, painted her as this unreliable violent monster to protect his own image. It could be all the above.

But who’s to say that Mom wasn’t motivated by love, too? Maybe good intentions don’t actually fucking matter. Only the action. Or the perception of the action.

“Yeah, okay,” I say. “I’ll stay here. I’ll go to therapy.”

“Thank you,” he says.

Normally, I wouldn’t consent without negotiation. Without getting something I want in exchange for doing something he wants. But what would he do if I put up a fight?

An awkward silence descends like an invisible wall between us.

After a few minutes pass, he picks up his paper, hides behind it. “These are the good bagels. I got blueberry. Your favorite.”

“How thoughtful,” I say. It comes out more sarcastic than I intend it to.

He folds his paper, stands with another deep sigh. “I’m working from home this week. I’ll be in my study if you need me.”

“I always need you,” I tell him. There’s a noise in my head, a sound like the chime of a bell, ringing in a thought. That’s how he wants it. My need is by his design.

He puts a hand on my shoulder. “I love you, Cli. You know that, don’t you? You know how much I love you, and that I only want what’s best for you?”

“I know,” I say. “Promise, I do.”

I cross my heart.

“Have a bagel. If you don’t want a bagel, order in. Whatever you want.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

When he’s out of the kitchen, I sip on the coffee he left and pick at a bagel and stare into space.

My phone vibrates. Someone’s calling me. It’s either Roy or spam. I pick up.

“Hello, this is Clio.”

“Clio.” I recognize his pretty voice.

The line crackles.

“It’s Roy.”

—

Not wanting Dad or Amy to overhear, I go out back, sit on the swing set.

“Clio?” Roy says.

“You said if we ever need anything…”

“What is it?”

“What do you think?” I ask.

I hear him breathing. When he finally speaks, it’s in a whisper. “The demon.”