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The bang of a metal door and the crank of a dial in the background reminds me that Agnes is still here.
“Are you hungry? I didn’t have a chance to go shopping—”
“No. I’m fine. I ate in Seattle.”
He nods slowly, his gaze studying the worn carpet beneath our feet. “How’s your mother?”
“Great.” No doubt on her third glass of wine and driving Simon insane as she paces circles around him in his chair, waiting to hear from me. I hesitate. “She’s shocked by the news.” I don’t think there’s any need to elaborate further.
“Yeah, well . . . it is what it is.” He reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. “I’ll let you get settled, then. See you in the morning.” He turns and, just like that, he’s gone, the kitchen door letting out a loud groan to signal his exit.
I stare at the empty space where he stood.
See you in the morning?
Four planes, 5,500 kilometers, and twenty-four years later, and all I get from my father is two minutes of polite conversation and “see you in the morning”?
Disappointment threatens to bowl me over.
I sense eyes on me and look up from my daze to find Agnes there, her dark, worried gaze studying me. “Are you okay?”
I swallow away my emotion. “I’m fine.” My shaky voice betrays me.
“Wren isn’t the best at expressing himself. This is a lot for him to take in.”
I let out a breathy laugh, but all I feel is the urge to cry. “For him?” What about for me?
At least the smile she gives me is sympathetic. “I’ll move your clothes to the dryer for you. Go on and get some sleep. Tomorrow will be better.”
I’m glad for the dismissal. I duck into my bedroom, pushing the door shut behind me, fighting against this prickly feeling that’s growing, the one that says I’ve made a terrible mistake, coming here.
I know the moment my phone has connected to the Wi-Fi because a rapid-fire succession of chirps sound, all text messages from my mother.
Have you made it to Anchorage yet?
Let me know when you get to your dad’s.
Are you there yet?
Okay, I checked your flights and saw there was a delay from Seattle into Anchorage. Call me as soon as you can.
I called Alaska Wild and they said you landed about fifteen minutes ago. Have you made it to your father’s?
My thumbs pause over the screen, deciding what to say. If I give her an honest rundown, she’ll insist on calling, and I don’t have the energy to dissect this disastrous reunion with her and Simon yet.
I made it. You were right about the small planes. I’m exhausted. I’ll call you tomorrow.
First thing, okay? We love you!
And remember to take lots of pics!
I quickly swap my clothes for my pajamas—one of a few clothes items that didn’t get wet, thankfully—and dart into the bathroom to wash up. My father and Agnes are nowhere to be found, which makes me think they’re outside, talking.
Shutting myself into my bedroom once again, I draw the curtain and crawl under the blankets with my phone, hoping to distract my dark thoughts.
I pull up the picture that Agnes took earlier. As horrifying as the flight in that thing was, we pose well together, the plane’s cheerful colors especially striking against the gloomy backdrop.
The only flaw is the asshole standing inside the frame.
