I call my dad in Seattle one evening. It was a strange decision, when he moved out there. I’d never even heard of him liking the Pacific Northwest, let alone wanting to live there. But he was retired and after the situation with my mom and Mike, I guess he wanted a clean break. He says he loves Seattle, that there’s a calm to it that he could never find in New York. That the air is fresher. He made friends easily. He’s dated, too. And I’m happy for him. But it does hurt, sometimes, that he moved so far away.

My dad has always been even-keeled, to a fault. Soft-spoken and gentle, loving but a little distant. He echoes Theo’s thoughts about having me come stay with him and I decline.

“Your mother, she’s lonely, I think. All of you kids are living your own lives. The boys are away. But you know how she is. She feels a certain way then she gets tired of it just as quickly. She welcomed you with open arms and then decided she couldn’t support you anymore. It’s not about you, sweetie. These are just her ways. She’ll eventually apologize. She probably felt guilty the moment after you had your fight, but pride is preventing her from doing the right thing.” He pauses. I hear him take a sip of water.

“And you. Are you okay?” His voice strains. He’d been so tactful about my whole situation, never asking outright about anything that happened, always sidestepping any overt mention of that nightmare. Thankfully, the online trolls mostly kept away from him, probably because he is so offline that it was harder to dox him.

“I’m okay, Dad. I’m okay,” I answer. I hear him pause again, the beat of silence allowing him to form his next words.

“Nothing that happened was your fault, Vivi. You know that, right? You’ll get up on your feet again. Life will move on. No one will associate you with this in another year. You’ve always been so high-spirited, so ambitious. I’m not worried about you. Go back to putting that energy to achieving great things and I promise you, you’ll land back where you want to.”

We say our goodbyes after that and I continue packing, letting his words wash over me. How am I supposed to put my energy into something else when I have all this time alone with my mind? I sigh, stuffing clothes into an empty duffel I found in the back of a closet.

I’d been good about not going back on Odilie’s Instagram the past couple of days. Instead, I’d been on LinkedIn, emailing old industry connections with my résumé. I was okay with a pay cut. I was okay with a demotion, even, if it meant I could work again. But so far, crickets.