Shawn comes through the back door and sits down next to her. “Sounds like you’re in trouble, Finn.” From the yard, she can hear the kids screaming, but no one seems worried. She wonders how parents can tell the happy screams from the dangerous ones. “Planning on breaking curfew tonight?”

Finn yawns and leans back against him. “Right. I’m lucky if I can stay up past ten these days.”

They watch the baseball game in silence. Finn tries to remember the last time she and Shawn and her father were in a room together, just the three of them. Before she moved out, certainly. On the rare occasions they were all back at Victor Street, Walter tended to avoid her and Shawn. Or maybe it was the other way around, Finn isn’t sure. But being together now feels oddly natural, as though they are survivors of a war heading back to the battleground together to survey the damage. There is a sense of solidarity. Or maybe Finn is just imagining it, desperate as she always has been for some kind of connection with her father. She glances up at Shawn to see if he feels it, too, but his face is unreadable, his eyes staring straight ahead at the television.

When the game goes to commercial, Walter flips the channel to the local news. Finn has forgotten how bad it is – the graphics that haven’t been updated since the 1980s, the theme music that sounds like it was composed on a toy synthesizer. The reporter is talking about a group of concerned citizens who have been protesting a potential wind farm on the Nor’Wester Mountains. That’s another thing Finn had forgotten about Thunder Bay: there is always a group of concerned citizens. This is why no shit ever gets done. A group of concerned citizens protesting is probably the reason the local news hasn’t changed its graphics in thirty years.

The camera goes back to the anchor. “Coming up after the break, Cassandra Coelho will update us on the local Thunder Bay woman who made history yesterday at a local landmark. We’ll have more on the Conqueror of Kakabeka, next on Thunder Bay News.”

Walter sighs and flicks back to the game. “I can’t even enjoy the news anymore.”

“That reporter called me yesterday,” Finn says. “At home in Mississauga.”

“She called me, too,” Shawn says. “At the restaurant.”

Walter stares at the television, unblinking. “Unbelievable.”

“I wonder how she found us,” says Shawn.

“The Facebook?” Walter says.

Finn smiles. Her father, social media guru. “Maybe,” she says. “I didn’t talk to her, though.” It’s suddenly important to Finn that her father knows this.

“Talk to who?” Nicki asks, coming into the room and plunking herself down in the armchair.

“Cassandra Coelho,” says Finn. “The reporter.”

“Oh yeah, that bitch,” says Nicki. “She can rot in hell before she gets anything from me.”