I turn off the stove and wander to the cabinet for a plate, carrying the skillet along with me.

“She hasn’t done anything,” I mumble. “I haven’t talked to her in over a decade.” Tears are in my voice, but thank god not yet in my eyes.

I intercoursed up.

Dad’s pacing toward the table and now back up toward the island, shaking his head. “Don’t lie to me, Jamie George.”

“I’m not lying,” I whisper in the kitchen corner, uselessly holding a plate and a hot skillet full of egg and spinach.

My father sighs, sounding exhausted. “You’re lying and we both know it, so just give it a rest. Did she email you too?”

I close my eyes, needing a second to myself to sort through how to respond. I finally decide on, “She emailed you?”

“What did she say?” he demands quietly.

“Nothing, we didn’t talk!”

He shakes his head for an endless ten seconds. “I can’t hang out with you if you’re going to lie to my face.”

My shoulders shoot up, my face warping into an expression of pure confusion. “We’re not hanging out!”

“Why do you think I’m in here right now?” he yells.

My insides quake as I search for the right words to hit back with.

That catfish I sent is never going to work now. I’ve ruined it. How the hell am I going to get him to Vegas on Tuesday?

I let my shoulders drop, knowing tears are just seconds away. “You know what. Just go, Dad.”

He stares me down. “I’m your father. I love you. I am doing my absolute best. Do not let her tell you any different.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I know you’ll do great today. You don’t need me there to tell you that.” He grabs his jacket off a kitchen chair and stalks toward his office in the other wing of the house.

I drop the skillet on the stove, run to the bathroom, put my face in the hand towel, and scream.

I haul breaths in and heave them out, trying to smother the firestorm in my chest. I roll some toilet paper around my hand and blot my eyes, trying to preserve my Jamie makeup.

The girl in the mirror is not okay.

But she’s going to pull it together.

I do the re-centering exercise Donya had me doing every session at Rediscover Yourself: I name five things in the room. Gladys buzzes in my pocket.

Dawn: Hey hey! HAPPY DUCK WATERFALL PERFORMANCE DAY! I’m in the driveway!

It’s better if Dad doesn’t come today anyway.

59. A Girl Is on the Train Again

JAMIE

September 5, Saturday Afternoon

New York City

I am effervescent on this train back to Jersey. Hope is thrumming through me as I flip through Zarar’s commentary. Notes are invigorating!