UNRAVELED

4

I zipped up my overnight bag, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. it was the weekend, which meant heading to my dad's house- our little tradition that had become this comforting routine. I loved our weekend together, even though sometimes the house felt too quiet. A quiet that sometimes wrapped around me like a blanket and other times suffocated me, reminding me of everything that I never. had.

My phone buzzed with a text from Dad.

Dad: " Dinner's at 7. Got your favorite from Antonio's. See you soon, kiddo.

I could practically hear his voice in the words, that easygoing tone he always used, like everything was normal. like we hadn't both spent years tiptoeing around the loss neither of us knew how to talk about. He never said much about Mom, but I knew. I knew he carried that weight with him, just like I did. The difference was, he had memories. I didn't. Mom died the day I was born, and I was left with nothing but stories, fragments of a woman I'd never meet.

I threw a few more clothes into my bag and zipped it shut, trying not to think too much about it. Dad and I we had a rhythm now. It was just us, and it worked. Most days, anyway.

The drive to his house was familiar, the road winding through the same streets I'd driven a thousand times. The late afternoon sun painted everything in a soft gold, making it easy to get lost in my thoughts. I tried not to let myself wonder what life would've been like if mom had been around. I tried to not to imagine a house that wasn't quite so empty. I didn't know her, so what was the point? still, sometimes I couldn't help but think... would I be different if she were here? would I feel more complete?

I pulled into the driveway, the porch light already glowing against the fading sun. it was something dad always did- turn on the light before I got there, like he wanted to welcome me home in the quietest way. The house wasn't fancy, but it was ours. It had been my home since I could remember, and even though it wasn't bursting with life like some of my friends' houses, it felt.. steady.

I opened the door without knocking and called out, "Dad?"

"in the kitchen!" his voice came from the back, sounding lighter than usual. He always did that, tried to sound upbeat when I was around. like he could protect me from the weight of it all

I dropped my bag by the entryway and made my way to the kitchen, the familiar smell of garlic and herbs hitting me as soon as I stepped in. Dad was at the counter, apron on, dishing out plates of pasta. I couldn't help but smile at the sight of him.

"there she is," he grinned, looking up. "just in time. food's ready"

"hey dad," I said, walking over to give him a quick hug. his arms wrapped around me, solid ad warm, just for a moment before he pulled back to gesture at the food.

" I know how much you love their lasagna," he said with a kind of pride, like he'd spent hours making it from scratch. I laughed shaking my head.

" you always know how to win me over." I teased, taking a seat at the small kitchen table, the same table wed had since I was a kid. it was big enough for the two of us, and that was all we needed.

As we ate, the familiar quiet settled in. Not the uncomfortable kind, but the sort where you don't feel the need to talk. I liked that about my dad, he never pushed, never asked too many questions, just let me be.

" how was your week?" he asked after a few bites.

I shrugged, poking at my lasagna with my fork. "school's fine, friends are..." I trailed off... not really sure how to describe the weird distance I'd been feeling with them lately. "complicated."

dad nodded, like he got it without needing an explanation. "friends can be like that. Anything you want to talk about?"

"Nah, just the usual stuff. Drama and gossip. it gets old."

his smile was gentle, understanding. "well, no drama here. just good lasagna and old movies, if you're up for it."

"yeah," I smiled back. "that sounds perfect."

We finished dinner, as as we washed the dishes together, I glanced around the kitchen, my eyes lingering on the old photos lining the walls. there was one of me as a baby, dad holding me in his arms, his face lit up with pride and joy. I loved that picture , but it also made my hearty ache. mom wasn't in any of the photos. I could feel her absence in every single frame.

"Hey, dad," I said softly. "do you ever think about mom?"

His hands froze for a second, just a second, before he set the plate down and looked at me. his eyes softened, like they always did when we talked about her. "yeah, I think about her every day."

"I wish I could have known her" I said quietly, almost to myself.

Dad turned, his face a little sad but warm, like he'd been waiting for me to say that.

"She would have loved you, Lila. she was so excited to meet you." His voice cracked a little, and I felt my chest tighten. "it broke my heart that she never got the chance to."

I swallowed hard, not expecting to feel this emotional. "Do you miss her?"

He smiled, "every day. but having you here.. it helps. you're a lot like her, you know."

I blinked, surprise. "Really? How?"

"You've got her strength. And her heart. she always saw the good in people, even when they didn't deserve it."

his words hit me hard, in a way I didn't expect. maybe in some way I did carry her with me.

"thanks dad," I whispered. my throat tight.

"Anytime, kiddo" he said softly, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "Now, what do you say we finish these dishes and watch that movie we've been talking about?"

I nodded, feeling lighter, like some invisible weight had been lifted off my chest. " yeah, let's do it"