Hudson felt himself blushing. “I don’t know if that’s the way I would put it,” he said, annoyed that he sounded so defensive.

“But you like him,” said Caddie.

Hudson leaned forward. “What are you getting at?” he asked.

Caddie looked down. “I just want to know if I’m going to lose him again,” she said softly.

Then Hudson understood. It all made sense—the anger, the accusations, all of it. As far as Caddie was concerned, she was still seven years old. Her feelings for her father had stopped there, and only recently had she begun to let them grow again. Now she saw something coming that she feared would hurt her all over again.

He felt sorry for her. All this time he’d thought she was an angry young woman when really she was a child playing dress-up. She had no reason to believe that her father wouldn’t disappoint her, which was why she was constantly looking for evidence that he was.

“Whatever happens, he’s not going to leave you,” Hudson assured her.

“How do you know that?” she said angrily. “How do you know anything about what he’ll do?”

Her voice had attracted the attention of the next table. The teenagers stared at Caddie and Hudson, clearly wondering what their relationship was. For a moment, Hudson had the urge to let them know that he wasn’t involved romantically with her, in case they thought he was some kind of pervert. Then he realized they were all assuming he was her father, and that, curiously, made him feel worse.

“Whatever—whoever—your father turns out to be,” he said, “he’s still your father.”

“Well, he certainly has a great track record being that, doesn’t he?” Caddie retorted.

He didn’t know what to say. Gone was the mature Caddie of not five minutes ago, replaced by the furious little girl. He wanted to comfort her, but she seemed intent on being miserable. He tried to remember that she’d almost lost her father today and that he needed to treat her gently.

“Fuck!” Caddie exclaimed, earning her glances from not only the table beside them but tables all around. Oblivious, she looked at Hudson. “Why do I get like this?” she asked. “Why can’t I just be ...”

“Normal?” Hudson said. “That’s exactly what you are being.”

Caddie snorted. “According to what definition?” she said.

“The real one,” said Hudson. “The one that says it’s okay to be afraid, and to not have the answers, and to ... love people ... even when they might hurt you.”

Caddie shook her head. “That’s not normal,” she said. “That’s suicidal.”

“Give it a chance,” said Hudson. “Give yourself a chance.”

Caddie threw her head back and groaned. “Ohhh,” she growled. She looked at him. “I don’t know if I can,” she said. “I don’t think I know how.”