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“Museum? You’re at a museum?”
“Uh-huh,” I reply, taking a seat on one of the cement benches and kicking at the pebbled path. Tree branches stretch overhead, blocking some of the sunshine. “I haven’t been cleared to play.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, even knowing the clearance is an inevitability according to Alizée. “Figured I might as well explore Kluvberg.”
“That’s awesome. Good for you.”
I roll my eyes. I should have known that would be her response. Hallie’s always been concerned about my focus on soccer. Me attending a training camp and instead expanding my cultural horizons walking around Europe is practically her dream come true.
“Are you settling in okay?” she asks, raising her voice to a bellow at the end.
I pull the phone away from my ear. “What the hell, Hallie? Why are you yelling again?”
“Sorry.” Hallie speaks at a normal volume this time. “We’re at the park. They’re mowing one of the fields and I can barely hear when they pass by.”
I remember those soccer fields, but I don’t voice the memory. Instead, I ask, “Why are you calling me if you’re at the park? Isn’t it still super early there?”
“Yes.” Hallie sighs. “Guess that’s why they’re mowing. Matthew wouldn’t sleep and Matt has an important meeting this morning. I needed to get out of the house.”
“Huh,” I reply. Hallie’s always been selfless, whereas I don’t even remember what her husband Matt does for work. Something in finance? Investing, maybe?
“So, are you settled in?”
“Yes.” If you count the suitcase I unzipped.
“We’re going to Dad’s for dinner tonight,” Hallie says without preamble. There’s no natural way to ease into a discussion of our father, and she knows I won’t be the one to bring him up.
“Have fun.” I trace the patterns carved into the bench’s hard surface with my free hand.
The half-hearted sentiment earns me another heavy sigh from Hallie. “Last week he said he hadn’t heard from you since March.”
“Phones work both ways, Hallie,” I point out.
It’s a flimsy excuse, considering we both know I probably wouldn’t have answered.
“He doesn’t know what to say to you, Saylor. When he called about being engaged, all you said was ‘Okay.’”
I could have said worse.
“I barely know the woman! What was I supposed to say? ‘Glad she’s closer to your age than mine. Big relief none of my old classmates are going to be my new mommy’?”
That earns me a third sigh. “None of them were that young,” Hallie says in his defense.
“Jessica was twenty-six.”
“She was?”
“Yup. She asked me if I thought she could pass for twenty-four because that was the age she told her modeling agent.”
Hallie laughs. “You’re making this up.”
I wish. The state of my relationship with my father isn’t something I’m proud of or amused by. And it’s a direct product of the choices he made after my mom left.
“I’m not that creative.” I tuck my phone between my cheek and shoulder so I can pull my hair off my neck. Not that it makes any difference. I can feel a bead of sweat trickling down my spine toward the small of my back.
There’s a quiet snort, then Hallie settles back into her serious tone. “He asks about you all the time, Saylor. They’ve still got some stuff to sort out for the wedding. I’m sure he’d love to know your opinion.”
Hard pass. Even if I were into event planning, which I’m not, I’d have no interest in this occasion.
“I don’t have opinions.”
