It’s weird hearing him call me that and it throws me off and I let a question slip out that I probably shouldn’t. “Why did you love her?” I ask and then pull a remorseful face. “I’m sorry, Dad. You don’t have to answer that.”

He shakes his head, more water building up in his eyes. “It’s okay. You can ask me things. I’m doing better with… stuff.” He pauses, deliberating, and then his breath falters. “I loved her because in the beginning she was erratic and impulsive and she could make life really surprising and… unpredictable. ” He stares over my shoulder, lost in memories and for a brief moment he almost looks happy. Then he blinks his eyes several times and the look disappears before he turns his attention back to me. “I think she was happy when she had you. And Dean.”

I can’t tell if he’s lying, but I don’t really care if he is or not. He might just be saying it to make me happy and I’ll take it. “Thanks, Dad.”

“No problem.” He seems like he wants to say more, squirming and popping his neck, like he has nervous energy flowing through him. “Ella, I don’t want to make you mad but I… I really wish you’d think about waiting to get married.”

What? “Why?”

“Because…” He rubs the back of his neck and leaves his hand there with his elbow bent upward. “You’re so young… and should live your life before you tie yourself down to grown-up stuff.” He lets his arm fall to his side.

It takes me a moment to speak, because there are a lot of mean words that want to push their way up my throat. Like the fact that I was tied down by grown-up stuff since I was four. Bills. Cooking. Cleaning. Taking care of people. That stuff is not new to me.

“I’ll think about it,” I say, but I don’t mean it. I back toward the door, zipping my jacket up. “And, Dad… thanks for talking about Mom.”

“No problem,” he replies. “I should have talked about her more, I guess.”

I don’t say anything. I agree with him, but I don’t want to say it because it’ll only hurt him, ruin this whole weird, good father/daughter vibe we have going. I open the back door and the wind blows inside, dusting snow across the floor.

“And, Ella,” he calls out as I’m about to step out into the snow and the glacier-cold breeze.

I pause and glance over my shoulder. “Yeah.”

“If you need any help… I mean, with the wedding and stuff if you decide to do it… I’m here if you need me,” he says, shifting his weight.

“Thanks,” I tell him, confused because he wants to help and it’s not something I’m used to. “I’ll let you know, but I think Micha’s mom’s on top of a lot of stuff. She’s super excited.”

He looks a little bit disappointed and I open my mouth to say more, but I can’t think of anything else to say so I wave, walk outside, and shut the door behind me. I feel somewhat bad because he seemed upset about my declining his help, but at the end of the day Micha’s mom was more of a parent to me than either of mine. Micha and she were my family since I was four, not my dad, my mom, or Dean. It was just his mom and Micha, but mainly Micha. He was my past and he is my future.

I pause as I’m about to hop over the fence, the snow knee deep and soaking through my jeans as I have a revelation that slams me square in the chest. From the day Micha begged me to climb over the fence for the very first time, we’ve been inseparable, except for the time I ran away to college. He took care of me. He loved me. He showed me what love was. And I think deep down, even though I couldn’t admit it a couple of years ago, I secretly hoped that he’d be in my life forever—that I’d end up with him. That I’d still be hopping over the fence to see him when I was twenty years old with his ring on my finger. That fifty years down the road I’d still be with him, sitting on a porch swing, drinking lemonade or whatever it is old couples do.

It makes my heart thump in excitement and terror because I think it’s time to let go of the dark things that haunt my past, let things go that I might not want to, so I can move forward into a future with a simple fence, juice box, and a toy car.

Micha

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” I ask Ella, staring down at her mother’s journal on my lap.

She nods as she digs through her bag on the floor. “Yeah, I only want to know if you find anything happy.” She peers up at me, wearing only a red-and-black bra and matching panties. “If you don’t, then I don’t need to read it. But if you do, then I want to read it just so I can hear about the happy part of her I never got to see.”

I massage the back of my neck, nervous about reading something so private. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

“It is.” She straightens her legs and stands up with a black dress in her hand. “But only if you feel comfortable doing it.”

I want to say that I’m not but there’s no way that I’m going to. Not after she came into the house yesterday after talking to her dad and announced that she was ready to move forward without finishing the journal because she wanted to let go of the past. I’m not even sure where the declaration came from, but there’s no way I’m going to do anything that will ruin it. “I’m down for a little reading, I guess.” I move the journal off my lap and onto the bed, then lean forward and grab the edge of the short, tight dress she’s about to put on. “Just as long as you tell me where the hell you’re going wearing this?”

“With Lila out to dinner,” she answers. “Why? What’s wrong with the dress?”

“Because it’s smaller than most of my shirts,” I tell her, jealousy ringing in my voice. “Your ass will be hanging out of it.”

She snatches the dress away from me. “It will not,” she insists, bending over and stepping into the dress. “Besides, Lila said specifically to wear this one.”

I rise to my feet as she shimmies the tight fabric over her body and slips her arms through the thin straps. It hugs her body perfectly but the bottom barely covers her thighs. “Why?” I question.

She tousles her fingers through her hair. “I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask her. All she’d tell me was that it was a surprise.”

“Oh, I’m going to,” I assure her and then leave the room to go find Lila.

She’s in the kitchen with Ethan, bags of red and black candles and matching flowers, ribbons, and other decorative shit scattered all over the countertops and table in front of them, along with wrapping paper and tape and a bag full of Christmas present bows. Lila, Ella, and my mom spent half the day shopping and Ella had come home looking worn out but with a bag full of wedding decorations and I guess a few presents for Christmas. She never was the shopping type and I’m guessing that Lila and my mom had more to do with the overabundance of wedding decorations and presents than Ella.

“I have a question for you,” I say to Lila as I scoot out a chair and join them at the table. She’s got Ethan tying ribbons, and even though he doesn’t look happy, he’s still doing it, which is kind of funny.

“Don’t say a word,” Ethan warns as he ties a piece of black ribbon into a bow. “Time and time again I’ve watched you do stupid shit for Ella and haven’t said a word.”

I rotate a candle in my hand. “No, you said a lot of words that annoyed the shit out of me.”

He shakes his head and then drops the bow, looking at Lila. “Can I be done with this?” He flexes his fingers like he has a cramp. “I can’t even feel the tips of my fingers anymore.”

Lila snips the end of a red piece of ribbon with a pair of scissors. “No way. We have about a hundred more to go.” She sets the ribbon and scissors down. She’s wearing this dark blue dress that has sparkly stuff all over it. It’s not as tight as Ella’s but it is equally as short, if not shorter. “So what’s your question, Micha? And if it’s about your Christmas present from Ella, I’m not going to tell you what it is.”