I woke up early this morning to go to my grandparents’ house to pick up their dog to take to work with me. I missed the breakfast at Burger King by about four minutes, so I drove out of line of the drive thru and went straight to the freeway instead. I’m at work now, and Shiba is in the yards dancing and spinning - as huskies do. When I’d arrived there was a car in their driveway with New York plates. I assumed it was a rental car for my aunt Denise, who lives in California. I assumed the plates were inconsequential, like the state-specific art on the side of Uhauls.
I went inside and in the kitchen was Denise - and her brother. My dad.
We haven’t seen each other in probably ten years.
Hugs all around, and he got one too. He smiled. I did too, uneasily, but I think I sold it well enough. “Good to see you,” I said automatically.
Good to see you too, he said. Better than pictures, yeah?
I feel a little sick but couldn’t tell you exactly why.
