Silas laughed, despite himself. He hadn’t heard that word in a long time. He wanted to tell Lily, see if she had the same memory of that away game senior year.

“Who is this girl?”

“You have to keep stirring, Dad.”

Silas went back to stirring.

“Her name is Ruth.”

“Is she your age?” Silas asked, keeping the spoon moving. The broth in the pot steamed.

“Going into tenth grade,” Mickey answered. “She’s super cool. Really pretty too.”

“Well, look at you, Miss Thang,” Silas said. Mickey rolled her eyes.

“No one says ‘Miss Thang’ anymore.”

“One person does,” Silas answered, pointing to his chest.

“Where is Mom?” Mickey asked, pushing herself off the counter and opening the fridge.

“Work. She’ll be home soon.”

Mickey grabbed a can of seltzer and closed the fridge door. Silas thought she looked disappointed, but he couldn’t tell if the disappointment was because of Lily’s absence or her inevitable return. Lily and Mickey’s dynamic had shifted recently. Silas and Lily’s friends said it was normal teenage behavior: daughter taking out her anger on mom. Silas always secretly hoped his kids were above all of that typical development stuff, but it was becoming clear that they weren’t.

“Shower before dinner?” he asked.

“How long do I have?”

“Long enough—you’re gross,” he said, patting her head and making a big deal of wiping sweat on his pants.

“I wouldn’t be gross if you didn’t make me join this stupid team,” Mickey said. “I would be clean all day long.”

“But you wouldn’t have met your cool, pretty new friend,” Silas said, and Mickey smiled. It surprised him, how happy she looked.

Ruth, he thought. He’d have to check the school website and see what he could find out. There couldn’t be too many Ruths in Mickey and Sean’s school. It wasn’t a name he heard often.

“She seriously pantsed him, Dad, like, in front of everyone.”

Mickey was beaming now, with a dreamy look. That was the word that came to mind when he considered her, leaning against the fridge: “dreamy.”

“That sounds pretty mean.”

“Trust me, he deserved it,” Mickey answered, and Silas did. Trust her.

“Dinner in twenty,” he said when she leaned in and put her head on his chest for a second, a hug without arms. “Tell your brother.”

“I’m not knocking on his door.”

“Just yell it in the hallway.”

He stirred the pot, added more salt and pepper. He wanted to put on a new record, but he couldn’t abandon the food. He wished he had asked Mickey to do it before she left, but he heard the water in the pipes upstairs and knew he had missed his chance.