My Favourite Part

62: everything

Before Mum left, she joked that it didn't matter how pissed I was with Dad; August and I had been 'Daddy's girls' from the day we were born, and we'd all be best friends again by 10pm.

As it turned out, it only took August until 9.

Dad's ordered us pizza. At first, he'd clapped his hands together and declared we'd have Byron burgers for dinner, 'just like the old days'. Curtly, I told him that we don't eat red meat anymore.

"Nobody told me about this development," he said amusedly. "Since when?"

"Since about 5 years ago." I.e. since you left.

It was a bit of a low blow. I even felt a little bad afterwards, but I managed to convince myself that I had every right to be snippy. I mean, who does he think he is? Does he think he can just march into our house without so much as an apology, and we'll all eat burgers and milkshakes like nothing's wrong? Like he didn't assault my boyfriend the last time I saw him?

Unlike me, August can't welcome him home fast enough. When there's an awkward silence after our encounter, she quickly fills it, brushing off the fact that he's totally out of the loop.

"But we do eat pizza! Don't worry, Dad, we can just order Papa Johns or something! Right, Ange?" She looks over at me, eyebrows high with desperate hope. Erys comes romping into the living room, and I let her leap into my lap as I sigh and plop into the sofa.

Aug's back to calling him 'Dad' already.

"Yeah, sure."

He swings back on his heels. "Alright, Freckles; Papa Johns it is."

There's a bit of buzz as we make the order – customizing our pizzas, choosing sides and all that. He keeps trying to make us laugh with dumb puns, and I feel bad again when August has to laugh loud enough to make up for my silence when asks if we should order 'pup-eroni' pizza for Erys. Erys make a low whining sound, her fluffy brown ears drooping when she tilts her head up at me. That makes me chuckle.

Yeah, I didn't think it was very funny either.

To avoid another lull whilst we wait for the pizza, August suggests we watch a movie, and picks out a 2000s classic: Just My Luck with Lindsay Lohan and Chris Pine.

"We need snacks!" August says, already energised by the mere idea of sugar. "Ice cream? Ben & Jerry's?" She asks him with a grin.

He clears his throat as he takes his seat on the sofa – thankfully, right on the other side from me.

"Frecks, what would your mum say about it?"

August's shoulders slump, as she answers sulkily,

"She'd say no ice cream until after dinner."

"Oh," he says, feigning surprise at her answer. "In that case, go right ahead."

Her eyes lit up like a New York Christmas tree, she tackles him with a big hug.

"Really? Thanks, Dad! Come on, Erys!" She says, sprinting into the kitchen, the little brown and white dog on her heels excited by excitement itself.

"I'll take some Chocolate Fudge Brownie!" He calls after her, laughing.

Once August and Erys are gone, there's an awkward silence that not even the boppy title screen music can cover up. I look straight ahead, in the hopes that he'll see me staring at a blank screen and realize how desperate I am not to speak to him.

"So..." he begins, fingers drumming the sofa arm rather aggressively, "your mum tells me you and that teacher fellow are done."

He stretches and contracts his jean-clothed legs in a way that tells me he's uncomfortable, and I can't help but roll my eyes and look away from his ungainly impression of fatherliness.