Page 55 of Your Pace Or Mine

Sarah:

So, is Dad dying or something? He’s texted me more this week than in my entire life.

I thought my dad would lose interest in our conversation after a day or two, but to my surprise, he keeps in contact, messaging every couple of days and even calling again. I guess it’s not just me, because Sarah, reaches out a week after Dad’s initial call.

No idea. It’s weird. And nice? But weird.

Nice is a stretch.

He called me early this morning, then asked why I’m so tired and whether I’d been partying. WTF? You haven’t parented me in two decades and now you care?

Early like noon?

Shut up. I’m a university student, okay. I’m allowed to sleep until noon!

Did he tell you he’s supposed to visit in a few weeks?

Dad dropped the itinerary on me yesterday. It would have been nice to run his travel dates by me first, but these are baby steps.

Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I even saw him, but I guess this is happening.

We end up deciding that he’s either having a late mid-life crisis or dying or his new flame is into the “involved dad” look. We’ll have to ride this out to see.

“I’m famished,” Ashley moans as she slides into the booth across from me. We’re meeting at a Vietnamese bánh mì spot downtown. We’ve both been busy, plus she’s seemed distant lately, though maybe I’m imagining that because I’ve gotten used to seeing her a lot for the past few months. I finally roped her into dinner because I wanted to talk business, not because I missed her. Of course not.

We talk shop for a while, going over social media numbers and some recent press. We’ve had a few meetings with the Vancouver group, and Seth and I also did an interview for a popular Toronto-based news and culture site, so my days have been full. Finally, Ashley changes the topic and asks about my dad.

“He’s been texting me pretty regularly, which is …” I trail off. Great? Unnerving? Surprising with a side of foreboding? This is part of why I haven’t brought it up.

She nods like she understands. “Well, I’m glad he’s trying, at least for now.”

“Yeah, for now being the operative term. Anyway, what’s up with you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Ashley laughs. “We used to see each other like twice a year. Now you miss me when it’s twice a month.”

I try to keep it cool, like I haven’t been keeping track of how long it’s been since we last saw each other—three weeks, but it feels like longer. “I guess I got used to our runs and stuff.”

I’ve made a lot of progress with my running. I even managed to do five kilometers without stopping last week, though by the end I was so slow that all the power walkers were speeding past. I might even survive one of her group runs, but I won’t invite myself.

“So run with me this weekend,” she suggests. “I know it’s a pain getting uptown, but the company is good.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She opens her mouth and closes it as if there’s something she’s hesitant about. My stomach drops, not sure what to expect. Finally, she says, “I might have met someone.”

I twist my mouth into a smile, despite feeling like someone’s splashed me with water. “That’s great! Wait, what do you mean by might?”

She flashes a small smile. “We’ve gone on one date, and since then we’ve exchanged messages every day. He’s funny and sweet and definitely handsome, but we haven’t gone out again, so it’s hard to say where it’s going. I felt weird being with you under the circumstances. I know I often end up juggling a few guys on the app, but this feels different.”

I’m supposed to be happy for her. This is what she’s wanted for a long time, and if her gut is telling her that this guy may be the real deal, I should be jumping for joy. But I’m a shitty person because part of me feels like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. “I get what you’re saying. We can pause that side of our friendship. We always said that was a possibility, and I’m happy for you.”

“Don’t jump the gun or anything. I wanted to tell you so you know I’m not ghosting you.”

I reach over and almost stroke her hand, but that’s not a just-friends kind of move. Instead, I grab a napkin like that was my intention all along. She catches it and a bemused look crosses her face.

“Thanks for telling me. You know I’m your biggest fan, and I want you to be happy.”

And we both know that I’m not capable of giving her what she needs for long-term happiness.