ZE OVERNIGHT MIRACLE

Honestly, if an overnight miracle came in to fix my life, I’d be waking up fourteen years ago. Mr. Miracle would give me the chance to fix this shit myself, instead of doing all the work for me overnight. That’s how we grow, folks.

He’d throw me back to the day my dad decided he was leaving.

I wouldn’t leave with my fucking dad. I’d stay in New York with my mom and Siri where I belonged. More than that, where I was needed. Siri needed me. Siri still needs me. I don’t know what happened to her, but if I was there, maybe I could have stopped it. I don’t know how, but I know I would have fought for that girl’s happiness. I want to fight for it now. She needs a change. She doesn’t want to go home to Mom. Maybe it would be best to invite her back to Dad’s?

My mom needed my help. If I was there, she could never have ruined herself with this lie. She would never need to pretend I didn’t exist. She’d want me to exist in her life no matter what.

My dad didn’t need me. He still doesn’t need me.

Siri and I would grow up alongside each other. We’d bicker, but we’d be a team when it came down to it. I wouldn’t grow up thinking my dad was right. Thinking his mannerisms were dickish, but his ideas were well-founded. I would know how to care about people the right way.

I want to. I swear I do. But I can’t manage to go more than a week before I fuck something up for someone. Ruin someone’s day. Cause an argument. Make someone cry. Say the wrong thing. I wouldn’t be a constant liability. In Miracle Land, I’d figure out how to separate myself from my own bullshit.

100. Angst and Hope

SIRI

September 19, Saturday

California

I sneak out of Jamie’s room early. She’s still on her stomach, drooling, when I head downstairs in a black sweatshirt and leggings.

It’s Saturday so Dawn might not be awake, but I feel like I need to talk to her. Now that Jamie and I have talked, I need to at least check in.

I ring the doorbell and wait, anxiously doing rond de jambes with my left foot on her doorstep.

“Siri?” I spin to find a sweaty Dawn walking up her driveway in light pink shorts and a tight matching athletic zip-up. She pulls headphones out of her ears.

“Hi.” I look at my feet, embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to drop by unannounced. I felt like I needed, I owed you a … something … a talk or I don’t know.”

“You want to come in? My mom’s at work; she had an early surgery.”