“Answer,” I said, shuffling the bags of groceries to readjust the cuff. After my lunch with Alex, I decided I needed another cooking and baking adventure to release some stress. There were two more blocks to go before I made it back to Leo’s place. My lease wouldn’t start for two weeks yet; the money for first month’s rent had to clear, my credit needed to be run, and I had to go through their insurance company to be covered.
“Hey, dad,” I greeted. “Is everything okay?”
My dad and I didn’t have a very close relationship; since my diagnosis years ago, I’d pulled away. It broke my heart that he lost his wife and was going to lose his daughter to the same disease. It was probably wrong, but I wanted to protect him. He took his cues from me and never pushed for more, but always promised he was there for me. We mostly texted little things that let the other know we were thinking of each other. Phone calls were rarer, usually about once a month, at a time we both agreed on. This call, out of the blue with no warning?
Something was wrong.
“Yeah, of course, Callie,” he chuckled. “Why do you ask?”
I paused, wondering for half a second if he was in the hospital with a brain injury. Stroke, maybe? They weren’t unheard of, though rarer than they’d been decades ago.
“You called me,” I said. “We don’t randomly talk like this. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I guess that’s true,” he mused. “But I’m fine. Actually, I’m doing really good, which is why I wanted to call.”
“Oh?” I prompted, shuffling my bags again. Maybe getting ingredients for bruschetta, homemade pasta and sides, and chocolate lava cake had been a bit too much for my arms to handle in one trip. But I was committed now, especially to the lava cake.
“I got a new job.”
“That’s great!” That was the appropriate response, right? “When do you start?”
“Next week. I wanted to call you as soon as I accepted, but I’ve been pretty busy getting the house ready to put on the market.”
My dad was… moving?
“But… you love that house,” I reminded him.
When my dad had bought that house when I was around twelve, it had been like everything had fallen into place. Gone were the days worrying about rent and living paycheck to paycheck. He’d vowed that he would never leave that house. It was the big sign to the world that he’d done it; he’d made it in life, all on his own as a single dad to a young girl. We weren’t well-off by any means, but he’d stayed loyal to the job that paid him enough to afford what we needed for the past dozen or so years. The more I thought about it, the more I realized this new job was almost as shocking as the move.
“I know,” he agreed, “but the house isn’t everything.”
“Must be a big raise to be willing to move out of that place.”
He chuckled. “Well, you’re not wrong.”
“Where are you moving to?”
“Actually…” He paused, which made me almost pause in the middle of the sidewalk. Someone brushed against one of my tote bags and reminded me to keep my feet moving.
“I’ll be moving to your city,” he finally finished.
I did stop walking at that. A muttered curse nearly on top of me had me scrambling off to the right near the buildings, out of the way of other pedestrians on their daily march.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I hope that’s okay,” he added hesitantly.
“What do you mean? Of course it’s okay! Are you kidding?” I set one of my bags down to hoist another back up onto my shoulder more securely. “I’ll get to see you more than, like, twice a year!”
He chuckled. “I sure hope so.”
“Where in the city will you be?”
“I haven’t found a place yet, but I’ll be staying with a friend until I do.”
“You could have asked me,” I said, my chest squeezing at the thought.
My dad took a breath. “I didn’t want to impose. You’ve liked your space.”
I had no response to that. I had made him think I wanted space.
“I would have had to turn you down, anyways. I’m moving in a couple weeks myself to be closer to work.”
“Leo’s apartment is too far?”
“Not really. But it’s just… It’s different living with him. Not what I expected, you know? I think it’ll be better for our friendship. And for Lucie.”
“It’s why your mother and I moved in together before we were even engaged. Needed a trial-run.”
“Which went well, because here I am.” My parents had gotten engaged when my mom was pregnant with me, and I had been an adorable one-year-old at their wedding.
“And here you are,” he agreed. “Anyways, I don’t want to keep you, and I’ve got a lot to do anyways. But I wanted to call while I was thinking about it.”
“We’ll catch up once you’re here,” I vowed. “Let me know when you’re settled enough. I’ll make you dinner, or something.”
“You sure you don’t want to just go out somewhere?”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“I’m positive.” Leo’s apartment building appeared in the distance. My arms wanted to scream with relief. Next time, I’d consider a delivery service instead. “I’m actually going to be trying some new recipes tonight. I’ve kinda gotten into the whole cooking thing.”
“Look at you, adulting,” he teased. Our meals had always been simple or pre-made ones we only had to reheat in the oven. I hadn’t minded, but as a pre-teen I’d joked that my dad wasn’t a real adult if he couldn’t cook. That joke turned on me when I also couldn’t cook, though I was making strong headway in that department.
“Right? Who’d have thought? Anyways, I’ll let you go. If you need help with the house, let me know, okay?”
“I will.” A pause. “I love you, Callie. I’m proud of you.”
I swallowed, blinking away what had to be an eyelash making my eyes water.
“Thanks, Dad. I love you, too.”
It took another seven minutes after hanging up for me to get back to Leo’s building. It gave me more than enough time to overanalyze everything. Was this a sign from the universe that I needed to let my dad back into my life? Well, the universe didn’t need to tell me that; I already knew and harbored plenty of guilt over it. But even though my original reasons for keeping him at arm’s length was gone, how would I explain things to him when I no longer had attacks? When I lived another ten years? It’d been burrowing in the back of my mind for weeks.
The best solution I’d come up with was claiming that the bio-screens’ data collection allowed better insight into each individual’s disease, allowing for more individualized treatment. But I knew my father would notice the lack of media attention and grow suspicious. Leo might be able to explain it away for a while, but whatever excuse he came up with wouldn’t last forever. And then what?
Alternatively, was this my father’s way of trying to get closer to me? Because, well, he literally would be. It seemed likely, probable even, that this was a calculated move on his part. Which I didn’t mind, since I wasn’t going to die from LaShoul’s anytime soon, but still left me with aforementioned problem of the whole not-dying bit.
My phone buzzing again interrupted my thoughts. I shook my head when I recognized my vibrate pattern for unknown numbers—all the peopling today was wearing me down—and waited until I dumped my bags on the kitchen floor. Slowly, I pulled my phone out from my pocket and looked at the screen.
Message Request From: Amelia Renhall
The name was familiar. I wracked my brain as I put the groceries away, thinking back if it was someone I’d met at Farley Tech, or was it—
Amelia. Hospital girl, who I’d given my number to weeks ago before she manifested right in front of me and I’d had to call for backup.
I accepted the request without hesitation and was assaulted with a wall of text.
Amelia: Hey, Callie. You probably don’t remember me, but you really helped me out when I was in the hospital about two weeks ago. You got me the help I needed. Anyways, I wanted to reach out now that I’ve gotten a better handle on myself with all the new stuff going on. And I hope you don’t mind, but I was wondering if we could meet for dinner or something? Coffee or tea, at least? I want to thank you, in person, for your help. And if you’re like me, you’ll say it was nothing, but it wasn’t. Please consider it? Hope you’ve been well!
I read the message again, considering how to answer. Truth was, I had worried about her sometimes, wondering whatever happened to her. Alex had said mental abilities, like her telepathy, could be more difficult to control and risked burnout more often than other abilities. I assumed that threat was higher during the earlier learning phase, when mistakes could be made. Even I had struggled with my ability at first, shattering things without meaning to until I unconsciously figured it out.
Well, I couldn’t not see her. I still had the image of her laying broken in a hospital bed associated with her, and that wouldn’t do.
Callie: Glad to hear from you! Hope you’re doing well with everything. It’s a big adjustment. It really was nothing, but let’s meet for dinner anyways. When are you free?
Worst-case scenario, I’d see with my own eyes that she was alright and be able to mentally let my concern for her go. It was more than enough motivation to me to agree to meet with her.
I put my groceries away and pulled my sourdough starter down from the top of the fridge, where Lucie was less likely to disturb her. This was a long-term project for me, and all I’d managed to do so far was make a mess. I didn’t have the best container and refused to buy one until I learned if my attempt was successful. There had been plenty of instances of over-purchasing materials for a new hobby that ended up fizzling out after a week or two. To be fair, my prefrontal cortex was all but fully developed now compared to my seventeen-year-old self. That young girl also had a job and disposable income for the first time in her life, and questionable decisions were made. The melted colored wax art was probably the worst.
I’d shown significant investment in my cooking hobby. Baking was next on the list, including this stupid bread goo that barely had any bubbles. According to the internet few bubbles was normal at this stage, but I wasn’t convinced I hadn’t fucked something up and killed it already.
I fed Dough-Phelia and put her back out of reach. Turning to clean up, my arm vibrated at the same time as my phone on the counter did. The latter danced into flour.
I stared up at the ceiling, wondering what bad karma I’d collected to warrant the barrage of notifications today. Was this what popular people dealt with? Celebrities? Group chats? No, thank you. That life was not for me.
Wanting to delay addressing the flour-phone mess, I woke my bio-screen with a simple swipe and took in my new stats.
It had been less than twenty-four hours since I’d last used my ability, so the residual ability pool of 18 made sense. In a few hours it would drop down to zero.
The Gamma Levels were new to me, especially the negative five modifier. Had that been because I’d struggled to carry the grocery bags all the way back? Probably, which was a smidge embarrassing. It was good to know I needed to work on my arm strength.
Then my phone buzzed again.
“Oh, for fucking fuck’s sake,” I muttered. I picked it up, seeing a message from Amelia and the second from Leo. I aggressively tapped on Leo’s thread and quickly confirmed that yes, I’d gotten the new stats and sure, we could compare them later.
I set my phone to Do Not Disturb, left it in the kitchen, and went to my room to find a book to be antisocial with for the rest of the day.