Page 175 of His Surrender

“How late?”

“About an hour and twenty minutes.”

Dad folds his hands on the table. “And what happened?”

“I panicked. I called her repeatedly. I called Sawyer. I checked the lobby cameras. I was about to start calling hospitals.”

Dad’s face tightens. “Did you know she was Christmas shopping?”

“Yes,” I reply.

“And that didn’t matter,” he says as if he understands immediately.

“No.”

He leans back slightly. For a few seconds, he looks past me. I know where he has gone. It’s exactly where I went on Saturday.

“I started remembering Mom,” I say.

His gaze returns to mine. The grief that crosses his face is brief but unmistakable.

“I remembered you pacing through the house. Calling her. Telling me it was traffic.”

Dad looks down at the table. “I thought I’d hidden it better than that.”

“You didn’t.”

A sad smile pulls at one corner of his mouth. “I was trying.”

“I know.”

The server returns to take our order. Neither of us has looked at the menu, so Dad orders soup and sandwiches for both of us.

When we are alone again, I continue, “I saw everything happen to Aubrey.”

Dad’s brow furrows.

“In my head,” I explain. “I saw her on the subway tracks. Hit by a car. Lying in a hospital somewhere while I stood in the apartment, doing nothing.”

My fingers tighten around the coffee cup. “I knew it wasn’t rational.”

“It doesn’t sound like rational thought had much to do with it,” he cuts in.

“No,” I confirm.

“Did she come home safely?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“And what did you do?”

I look down at the table. “I held her. I told her I thought she was dead. She asked why this kept happening. I told her about Mom.”

I take a slow breath. “I told her I loved her.”

My father’s eyes soften. It should feel good to say it aloud. Instead, shame follows immediately.

“And then I told her I didn’t know if I could do this.”