Page 28 of Five Things I See in You

“Shit. That’s all we needed.”

“I know. I’ll tell you about it tonight, when we can talk properly. Not here.”

She nods, and we cross the parking lot about a foot and a half apart, as agreed. But the moment she closes the car door, she takes my hand and holds it until she’s ready to drive.

We pass him standing beside a car at the far end of the parking lot, staring at us without so much as a wave. If I didn’t know better, I’d never guess he was her father.

“I can’t believe he said that to you,” Noa complains when I tell her about the conversation at home.

“Just so we’re clear, I won’t discuss private information about your health with anyone. Not even your current sports psychologist. And I’m not the person to judge Hades’ tactics or your performance. Though everyone says you’re playing really well,” I add.

“As far as my father’s concerned, I never play well,” she says with a sad shrug. “It’s been that way since I was a little girl. Even if I managed to be absolutely perfect, it still wouldn’t be enough. At least he doesn’t keep telling me I’m a huge disappointment, like he does with Callum.”

Chapter 18

Noa

By the time I get to the restaurant, my father has already ordered. Two meals, neither of them anything I would have chosen. The worst part is that he knows perfectly well I wouldn’t have chosen them. He is my father, after all.

“You’re late,” he says without looking up from his notebook.

“Three minutes.”

“Three minutes is late when everyone else is on time.”

He slips the notebook into the inside pocket of his jacket, the same gesture as always, and unfolds his napkin across his lap before picking up his fork. For a long time, we eat in silence, with only the murmur of conversation from the other tables and the clink of silverware against plates. We could be complete strangers.

He chose the restaurant too, even though he’s never been to Seattle before. Even the table, beside the window overlooking a pedestrian street.

“Do you still go watch the youth team on Saturdays?”

I couldn’t care less, but we have to talk about something.

“Someone has to teach them to defend properly.”

That’s not even an answer to my question.

“Have you talked to Callum this week?” I try, just to keep the conversation going.

He snorts without trying to hide it as he spears a potato with his fork.

“I sent him an analysis of his last game. I don’t know why I bother. He gets worse every time. I don’t know where I went wrong with that boy.”

“I wasn’t asking about soccer, Dad.”

He doesn’t look up from his plate.

“Have you even called him? It was his birthday last week.”

“I already told you about the analysis,” he says, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

I roll my eyes, cut off a piece of fish, and decide to change the subject.

“Do you ever see Mom?”

He shrugs and cuts another piece of meat.

“That’s not a yes or a no.”