Jaxon’s leg is still bouncing erratically, my stomach’s rumbling, my father’s pacing, and I’m just about to ask if there’s a snack machine when a door bangs shut and Jaxon looks up. A man is standing at the front desk, tall, pale and lanky, hair dishevelled and lips cracked. It’s my first time meeting Jaxon’s dad, even though I heard his voice shouting at Jaxon when I was in their house. He barely looks like the man in the photograph Jaxon was showing around the bars when he was searching for him. Jaxon jumps up and they embrace with a slap on the back. Doug puts his hand on his son’s shoulder as he signs the forms.

Then Adam and Doug slap each other’s backs. ‘This is Sky,’ my father says and Doug nods at me.

I can smell his body odour as we walk back to the car, and it’s a long way from rosebuds.

We drop Doug home, and my father and I wait in the car as Jaxon grabs some clean clothes. It was agreed he’ll sleep at Adam’s again, just until Doug’s back on his feet and Jaxon’s finished his concert tomorrow night.

‘Sorry, I’ve been so preoccupied,’ Adam says to me. ‘I want to continue working through all of this together. Can we talk later tonight? I’ll pick up some of those fudge brownies you liked.’

I look at my father. He’s done as he promised and reunited father and son. He’s been Jaxon’s saviour, totally stepping up when he was needed. He is a good guy. Can I really have expected him to be exactly like I’d hoped? Isn’t it enough that he’s here, making an effort, trying his best to be my dad?

More words circle my head.

You can’t abracadabra the world.

I’d give the skin off my back to have my father back, make amends.

There’s no perfect parent.

But how imperfect is acceptable?

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

‘Oliver?’ I say, as the video call connects.

‘Sky!’ He beams back at me. ‘Is it really you? My long-lost girlfriend?’

‘I’m super sorry. I have totally sucked at keeping in touch lately.’ I feel my eyes pricking and hope it’s not showing up on the screen.

‘Lucy says you haven’t replied to her either. Everything okay?’

‘Kind of,’ I say. ‘I have a lot to tell you.’

‘Like why you ran off to a festival and I had to track you down using a platypus?’

‘And a stolen car,’ I add with a smirk.

‘Borrowed.’ But then his grin falters. ‘And, like, how your dad is a …?’ He doesn’t finish the sentence.

‘How did you know?’

‘Paula came by Mum’s store to pick up some tofu and other stuff—she wanted to stock up before you get back. She filled me in.’