They got sweats and slip off pants they thought would fit Spike and grabbed a pile of jeans and work gear for themselves and Zach. They got bigger clothes for Saj at Gapkids.
“We should get winter stuff: gloves, hats, mittens.” Nev grabbed knitted stuff off a rack. “Last winter I didn’t make it the one time I tried to go home. Icy roads.”
Lizzie saw a darkness in Nev’s eyes when she said ‘home.’ “Nev. I’ve been a horrible friend. I haven’t asked you about your family, your life. What happened?”
“Shit, Lizzie. Your family died, you almost got raped, you killed a guy. You’ve been a little preoccupied. ‘sides. I don’t wanna talk about it. My family is dead. I wasn’t there.”
Nev was the one who took care of people. It was easy to forget she sometimes needed taking care of, too. Lizzie hugged her, squeezing extra tight. She didn’t know what else to do.
Nev held her for a moment and then let go. “And I’ve got my two oldest friends back. It might be a tiny silver lining, but it’s pretty amazing to me.”
“Yeah. It is.”
* * *
They found Zach playing with Saj on the carpet near the video games. Lizzie tried to sneak up on them, but Zach spotted her.
“Look, Saj, it’s Sissie and Nev,” Zach said.
The little munchkin toddled toward Lizzie as fast as his legs could carry him. She knelt, grabbed him by the armpits and spun him up in the air in a broad arc. His breath sucked in and his eyes glowed. When she set him down, he jumped up without his feet leaving the ground.
Zach broke up laughing.
Nev smiled, too. “Pretty much the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Again?” Lizzie asked. “Again?”
Saj bounced with all his energy. He could fly if his body would obey.
“Okay. Sissie make you fly again.” Someone had made her fly when she was small. She grabbed him and spun him around sideways, rising and falling, spinning dizzy until his little shape threatened to pull out of her grip. Then she sat him down and stumbled to the floor herself, collapsing, her center of balance off. He fell into her arms and she held him tight.
Zach had deciphered the film projector, admitting that all you had to do was get things turned on and push play—like Internet streaming. They got refills on popcorn, frozen ice cream bars and chocolate-covered raisins.
The newest saga about the children of Han and Leia failed to distract Lizzie. Her mind kept going back over her life without her father. She had nothing to pull up. She should have remembered something, but she’d walked herself through this forever. All that she had was an image of him from his music and movies. It was the image of a Hispanic version of Judd Nelson. Not very original. She fantasized he would come back and take her away. She’d only wished for him in the worst times, and he’d never come. Or called. Until now. And that was because she had called him first. Well, these were the worst of times.
* * *
Lizzie sat alone on the bed in the master bedroom. She’d decided to make the call alone. She battled herself about what to say. “Why the hell did you never call me?” or “Fuck you.”
“Come save me, Father,” she said aloud, then laughed at herself and flopped back onto the bed. The ceiling fan spun. She let her eyes follow it for a minute. Then she sat up and deliberately pressed the numbers.
The phone rang on the other end, several times. Then “Lizzie?”
“Yes. It’s me, Daddy.” There, that was that. She didn’t even know she would call him Daddy. But it slipped out and felt right.
“Yes.” There was a pause. “I’m sorry.”
Not ready to forgive him, yet, she listened to him breathe, wondering if he was doing the same. Finally she said, “I’m glad you’re alive.” Her voice came out as a shaky whisper.
“Oh, god, Lizzie. It’s so amazing to hear your voice.” His voice cracked. “I wanted...”
“Yah, me too.” She heard the touch of anger in her voice and breathed deep; it came out ragged. “Mama and Jayce are gone.”
“I’m so sorry. She loved you very much. Jayce’s your little brother?”
“Yeah. Jason. I basically raised him.”
“Ah.”
“Where are you?”
He cleared his throat. “Del Rio, Texas, near Mexico.”
“Near your family?”
“Yeah. They were here.”
There were questions Lizzie wanted to ask, “I have some people here with me. Two of my best friends... We all survived.”
“Wow. That’s amazing.”
“It is. I feel lucky. It’s strange. A bunch of us survived; we were all on a trip to Honduras a few years ago. Did you ever go there?”
She heard him chuckle, but it sounded sad.
“No. I didn’t travel except places the military sent me. And away from people I shouldn’t have.” He paused and gave a long sigh. “Oh, Lizzie. I am so sorry. For everything. I missed everything. There is no excuse. And I know you must hate me....”
“Yeah. But, not always. I prayed you would come take me away.”
“And now?” he asked.
It was an impossible question. How did she feel about him now? Even she wasn’t sure of the answer, so she didn’t give one.
They sat, silence stretching the phone connection.
Change the subject. Lizzie began again. “I don’t know what you do. Did do.”
“I worked at the Amistad Reservoir for the Park Service after… After I left you.” He went silent.
“You don’t have to explain.” It was a lie.