Love, Dad | ✔️

3 | PEOPLE COME AND GO

"So how long do you think it will take us to cross the country?" I crane my neck to watch the city limit sign roll by.

"According to my map, about three and a half days. Maybe four with my detour. It's Friday evening. We could get to California by Wednesday at sunrise."

I whistle, wondering what detour he's talking about, but I don't press for more information. "That's a lot. I was happier before I knew that."

Dave chuckles. "Think of it this way: Once we cross, we're in California. Give or take a mountain range or two. Plus I've always enjoyed driving great distances across the USA. It's the only time I feel any kind of patriotism."

His warm maroon gaze lingers on me a fraction of second longer than necessary, and it has warm embers twirling in my stomach.

"Not running away from home, are you?" His hands tighten on the steering wheel. "If so, take my advice. Get back into your house."

"I don't remember asking for your advice." I scoff. He already agreed to take me to L.A., so he can shut up and drive.

"That's right, you didn't."

"For all my mom knows, I'm supposed to be on a grad trip. I'm good for another week, so don't give me the third degree."

"You surprise me. April Lewis, the class nerd, lying to her mom about her whereabouts? That took guts. Not sure even I'd be able to do it. Seems to be more to you than meets the eye." Dave's eyes shine with a spark of admiration.

It drives heat to my cheeks and I look away.

I giggle. "And I'm eighteen, so the cops won't say a thing. Adults do what they want."

"Well said, again. Say, you have any siblings?" Flecks of curiosity glisten in his irises.

"Nope, just my parents and I."

"Lucky you. When my mom remarried, I got a pack of three." Dave groans. "I'm more of a babysitter than a person now."

"Oh." Unsure what to say, and always being cursedly horrible at small or big talk, I don't pry any further. For a moment, I focus on the specks of dirt on the car window instead.

"Dad and Mom split." He glances at me and grimaces.

It's silly but I admire his moving lips, the jump of his Adam's apple when he swallows. It's nice to sit next to him. We're almost like friends who have known each other for a long time.

"Sorry." I fiddle with the button of my denim jacket.

"Eh, it's all good. They fought all the time anyway. It's better this way. There was a period when they got along, though. When he wasn't a drunk asshole."

"Do you miss him?"

"He was alright before he started getting plastered every night. My Mom is a psycho lunatic now, and my younger brother Keith is in prison. I mean I always knew Mom and Dad were lost causes, but I tried so hard to protect Keith. And failed."

Our eyes meet for a moment and I reach over to stroke his arm. He doesn't flinch or pull away and we connect in a smile. His teeth glisten like magic in the dim light from the dashboard.

"So yeah, I guess I do miss him." He clears his throat. "I miss a lot of people, though people come and go. But more come along, you know?"

It feels super strange being able to relate to him, but... he's so right. Especially because I have my own experience to confirm what Dave Rivera says.

"Remember that girl, Sarah, from middle school? We were inseparable," I start. "Hanging out at each other's houses, sleepovers, shopping trips, volleyball team practice... You name it. We did everything together. I thought we'd be friends forever." I pause, taking a deep breath. "Then, just like that, we drifted apart. I felt all sorts of feelings: grief, loss, betrayal... Anger. I was furious at her. I swear I thought it was the end of the world."