But I blink and the fog clears and I get that I’m awake. It’s still daylight but the house is dark because of the woods directly behind it, huge trees looming up and arching over the house and in its narrowness, the house could be one of them: a tree-house, tall and thin and higgledy-piggledy, with mean windows and a red door. If it were a house on its own in the forest it would be like something out of a fairy tale.

“Here we are then,” Max says.

Yes. Here we are then.

Dad comes out and gathers me in a hug and, despite myself, it’s so good to see him. I hold on tight, closing my eyes, pretending I’m a kid again, breathing him in, the familiar smell of his aftershave, a lingering hint of coffee on his breath. He smells like home and this hug, this moment, is worth everything that’s to come.

He’s shaking as I hug him back and I cling on, stroking his back. Yes, I can do this, I want to say, to convince us both. I will be here for you.

Dad looks grayer and older, thinner, hunched over as he greets Max and Lena, like more than a few months have passed since I saw him last, like years have gone by. I touch my face, expecting to feel lines, sagging skin.

I squeeze Dad’s hand. “Come on, Dad, let’s go in and see Julia.”

“I’m sorry about Lena,” Max says quietly, picking up a tea towel and drying the mugs I’ve washed. Dad nodded off in the living room, so Max and I tiptoed out to the kitchen while Lena went outside to smoke. We’re all still waiting for Julia to wake up so we can visit, the last hour spent in halting, awkward small talk punctuated by the ticking clocks Dad has all over the house.

“It’s okay,” I say, not looking at him. “Like you said—she was drunk.”

He pauses and puts the mug he’s dried down on the counter. “But I was surprised, too. You haven’t been visiting? I know Lena shouldn’t have spoken like she did. But Julia’s been so ill and…”

I feel like I’ve been slapped.

“I did visit her in the hospital,” I say. “Which is more than Lena bloody did. But I couldn’t come back here. When I was sick on the way…it wasn’t something I ate, it was coming back here.”

He glances toward the window, to the woods outside. “Jesus—still? After all this time?”

“Yes, still. Yes, after all this time. I come back here and I see those woods and I want to pass out or puke or run screaming every time. So yes, I’ve been a crap daughter, a crap stepdaughter, but I’m here now, aren’t I?”