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“Rayne-y Day! How are you?”
He sounds happy. He always sounds happy when I call. Upbeat and warm. I wonder how much of it is forced.
Lana and Alexis told me Dad never held a grudge against me for choosing my mom over him. He always wanted a relationship, but he didn’t want to force me. Still, I can’t help but wonder if he secretly likes me less than my sisters. I wouldn’t exactly blame him.
“I’m good.” I try to lie, but I sound as deflated as I feel. “Well, I’m okay.”
“Uh-oh. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I’m really fine. I was just calling to…” My voice trails off.I was calling to talk to a parent. To try and get some advice from someone who might understand.Saying that out loud makes me feel like I’m using him, only calling when I need something.
“Rayne,” Dad says, “you shouldn’t feel bad at all, but the truth is you don’t call often. I suspect you have a reason. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
I drop my forehead into my palm. “I shouldn’t have called. I’m wasting your time.”
“Talking to you is never going to be a waste of my time. What does an old guy like me have going on anyway?”
“You’re retired, not dead,” I say. “You have a life with exciting things in it.”
He mumbles something that sounds like a dismissal before he clears his throat. “Well, regardless… No matter what has happened between us, you are my daughter. Do you hear me? I’d do anything for you.”
Emotion clogs my throat. I swallow past it and gather my composure. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Don’t thank me. I haven’t done anything yet. Now, tell me what’s up.”
For as much as I tried not to say anything, the truth comes pouring out of me in a nonstop torrent of information.
I tell Dad about Yuliana’s issues with her speech and her fixation on routine. I walk him through all the steps I took to help her have a good first year at preschool and how the last few days have blown up in our faces.
“She’s disrupting class and having a hard time connecting to any of the teachers, even the ones she knows,” I tell him. “It feels like she’s regressing. I don’t know what to do to stop it. What makes it worse is that I have no idea if any of this is even remotely normal.”
He hums, thinking. “Have you talked to your doctor?”
“I have in the past. They said some speech delays can be normal, and Yuliana’s has seemed to mostly reverse in the last year. She doesn’t like to talk, but she can.”
“What about the night terrors and everything else?”
“Anxiety, maybe?” I shrug. “The last doctor I talked to suggested an anxiety medication, but she seems too young for that. I haven’t taken her back in a long time. The night terrors could be normal. Hereditary, even. Do you know if I had them?”
There’s a long pause. “I wouldn’t know much about that. Your mom and I… Well, we weren’t seeing eye to eye at that time. I was in and out of the house at her discretion for most of when you were young.”
I frown. “Really? I thought you just… left.”
“We don’t have to talk about this, Rayne. I know you called about Yuliana, and I want to try to help.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “I—I want to know.”
He blows out a breath. “I kept coming back and trying to make things work. You know how your mom was. Saying goodbye to her wasn’t anyone’s first choice. She was the kind of lady you wanted in your life. Plus,” he adds, “there was you. I wanted to be there for you.”
I wipe a tear away.
“As far as I can tell, parenting is never what you think it will be,” he continues. “It’s a lifetime of trying your best and failing most of the time. No one is perfect, but the best thing you can do is love them no matter what.”
“It sounds easy when you say it like that.”
He snorts. “It’s the hardest job in the world. It’s why it takes a village to raise a kid. Do you have a village, Rayne?”
“I have people who help…” I think of Natalia and wince. “I have apersonwho helps.”
