“Hello?” I call, but the room can’t hide anyone, especially not Dad. I sink into a chair by his desk. My phone buzzes. Mom lives in Whittier, and Ruth knows but didn’t tell you. I stare at the screen, grip the phone. Mom’s back? My fist hits the desk, sending a few loose papers fluttering to the floor. As usual, his office is a mess. Dad has a penchant for saving every scrap of paper he lays his hands on and then piling those pieces of paper around his office in short stacks that cover nearly every surface, floor included. He says it’s his very own system of filing that works just fine for him. And it does. Once, when I came home from college, I asked him to locate data on light bulb purchases for the past year, just to prove his system inept. He found it in minutes. That’s not to say there wasn’t a certain amount of cursing that accompanied his searching, but he found it nonetheless. I laugh to myself, remembering the way he lifted the spreadsheet in the air, a triumphant smile on his lips.

The memory fades and my laughter ends abruptly when I see a picture lying on top of a pile of papers. It’s of Dad when he was much younger—thick head of hair, wearing a dark-blue suit, and dancing with Mom. She’s beautiful, her delicate hands clasped in his giant paws, her hair floating down her back in shiny brown waves. In the photo, I see only her face—head against Dad’s chest, eyes closed, mouth in a soft smile. They look happy. I let the picture fall to the desk. Of course they were happy. She was sober and they were still in love.

But why was he looking at this? My chest tightens. Does he miss her? Is he lonely? I fall back against the chair. He must be lonely. He cares for me and works his butt off to keep the heat on in this place. My thoughts turn selfishly to my own failed love life. Impossible to resurrect now, but that was probably going to be the case regardless. Tate was my everything and he broke my heart, not once but twice. I’m not sure I would have ever recovered enough to trust anyone else with my heart, and now it’s too late.