The Fragile Ordinary(99)

“What’s going on there, Dad?”

This time he didn’t hide his surprise. “It’s complicated.”

“But is this for real?” I gestured between him and me. “You being interested in my life, wanting to be a part of it? Is it real? Or does it all fall to pieces when Carrie comes home?”

Dad stared at me so long that I thought he wasn’t going to answer, but he did, in a low, gruff voice thick with emotion. “Whatever happens between Carrie and me, I won’t put her before you again. Life is so damn short, Comet. I don’t want to live mine knowing I caused irreparable hurt to the one person who deserved it least. I know I can’t ever make up for the damage Carrie and I caused...but I can try. I can love you. I do love you, kid.”

My eyes filled with tears. “Would you still love me if I chose to go to uni in America?”

He gave me a sad smile. “If that’s what you want, you go for it. I’ll still be here.”

“I don’t know what I want now,” I whispered, confused as to whether I wanted UVA just to get as far from my parents as possible, or if it really was the college of my dreams. I wasn’t sure if my dad could live up to his promises, but I also wasn’t sure I was ready to traverse an ocean to get away from him, just when it seemed like we might finally have a relationship worth staying for.

Dad was right. Life was short. Stevie’s death had proved that. It had also proved that relationships were more important than anything else in my life.

Sensing my fear and confusion Dad strode toward me and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got time to think about the future, Comet.”

I drew in a shaky breath and did something I would never have imagined doing a year ago. “Will you come with me to Pan? It’s my first open mic. I... I’d like you to hear my poem.”

His response was a huge smile. “I’d love that.”

*

I was crushed.

Pan was crowded tonight with regular patrons and people who rarely, if ever, frequented the place. There were older people here, some obviously parents, and of course a lot of under eighteens. The café was busier than I’d ever seen it, and yet the person I most wanted there wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

My dad stood with Vicki, Mr. Stone and Mrs. Cruickshank. Steph couldn’t make it because she had a date with a college boy she’d met at the swim center last week. However, my one constant—Vicki—was with me. She’d convinced me to tell Mr. Stone about the open mic night and like my dad, his response had been immediate and positive. As for Mrs. Cruickshank, my dad and I had passed her on the esplanade on our way to Pan. She’d been surprised to see us together, and Dad had encouraged me to invite her along. The way she just spun around and started walking with us in response had made me want to cry grateful tears.

I had people here who loved and supported me, and as amazing as that felt, it still hurt not to have Tobias there.

“You’ve gone paler than normal,” Vicki said, looking concerned. “You okay?”

No, I wasn’t. I was next up on the stage, and the person who made me brave wasn’t here to cheer me on. I said so.

“We talked about this.” Vicki squeezed my hand. “Only you can be brave. Tobias hasn’t got that power. He’s not here? Well, screw him. His loss, Comet. You—” she smiled sweetly at me “—are one of my favorite people in the whole world and if he can’t see how special you are, then it’s his loss. Do this for you, Com. For all the people who made you feel like you weren’t worthy of them.”

I thought of my dad, who seemed to be doing his hardest to make up for it and who’d flinched at Vicki’s words, and of Carrie, whom I hadn’t heard from at all since she’d left except through secondhand conversations she’d had with my dad, of my primary six teacher who’d traumatized me and made me hate school, of Heather who’d bullied me out of envy, of Stevie, Alana, Jimmy, Forrester and their group for bullying me because it made them feel in control to be the tormentors instead of the tormented for a change, and even of Tobias, who’d made me feel alone when I needed him the most.

But despite that, Tobias had changed my life for the better. I had changed.

“She’s right,” Dad said. “Do this for you, Comet.”

And even though I wanted to throw up, I nodded, and heard all of their good lucks at my back as I took the steps one shaky upward movement at a time and approached the mic. I let go of a small exhale and the mic crackled. Unable to look at the faces staring up at me, I looked down at the poem in my hand instead.

“My name is Comet Caldwell,” I said, wincing slightly at the way my voice echoed around the room. “I’m seventeen and...this is my poem.

“Before you

Real life was a blurred Monet,

Dripping Tuesday’s pale blue

Into Wednesday’s dull gray;

All color muted to a lesser hue.

It was hot chocolate gone tepid,

And a winter with no snow.

Sea air somehow turned fetid,

Favorite shoes you outgrow.

Before you,

Real life was without magic,

No acts of heroism in sight.

Just girl, not savior, not telepathic,

No fight of dark against light.

There were no wizards or warlocks,