Page 2

A few more minutes pass until I gain the courage to stand up and make my way to their front door. The rusted edges of the door handle stares back at me.

Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this.

My heart races as every disastrous possibility runs through my mind.

I’ll try again tomorrow. I’ll call my dad and talk to him first.

Time has seemed to soften my heart after everything that’s happened, but I don’t know if I can say the same for them. I’m not sure I’m ready to be disappointed.

The wind sends a chill down my spine, as it doesn’t take much in me to lift my feet from the ground and walk away. Just as I’m about to turn around, the sound of footsteps approaching and the door unlocking, causes my body to freeze in its tracks.

It’s too late.

My dad swings open the door, his jaw open wide, as a glint springs to his eyes. He’s wearing slippers that are scuffed and falling apart, with a basic grey t-shirt and black sweats.

Familiarity hits my heart. He looks like my dad. A little more grey and a little skinnier—but it’s him.

His voice chokes as he speaks. “Billie?”

I sigh in a mix of relief and sadness as he says it.

I’d heard my name a million times growing up, yet it sounds so new.

“Hi, Dad,” I reply.

He hasn't said anything else and stands as still as a statue when he begins to tear up, reaching in for a hug.

I can’t help but start to cry too.

“Hi, baby girl,” he says.

I hug him tighter and cry a little harder.

2

May, Ten Years Earlier

“Just give me one second,” I tell Maggie.

I put my arm down to my side, clutching my phone and moving past the herd of students trying to get from one place to another.

I finally make it out of the tight space and into the main hall. “You still there?” I ask, putting the phone back up to my ear.

“Yup! I just wanted to tell you that I became a finalist in the spring showcase!”

“What?!” I yelp, receiving stares from strangers. “That’s amazing! Which piece was it?”

“The anonymous frog portrait.”

“Oh, really?” I stutter. “I didn’t really understand that one.”

“Well, duh. You aren’t an art major like I am. Of course you don’t understand it.”

“Right, I forget, I’m not complex enough to get it.” I roll my eyes. Maggies art is something I’ve always appreciated, but sometimes it goes right over my head.

“The best part about it is that I’m the only freshman that made it! College isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“If that’s your clever way of trying to convince me to go, it’s not going to happen.”