Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Riley looks up at me like she wants to be sure I understand that this is more than a job to her. It’s a calling. Caregiving isn’t what she does. It’s who she is.
“We were all a little messed up,” she says with a humorless laugh like that’s somehow funny, “but I did my best to fix myself and heal my own damage, and then I started helping the others. Until I couldn’t anymore.” She stares into her tea and sighs. “I had to save myself. That’s when I ran away, leaving several kids at that home. They were mad, and hurt, and scared, and I felt… hell, I still feel guilty for abandoning them, but I just couldn’t stay there.” Her voice has gone a bit shaky but steadies as she says, “But I didn’t stop helping. I just did it differently. Like with nannying.”
She takes a sip of tea, licking her lips delicately, and she suddenly seems younger than her twenty-five years. Like I can imagine her as a child, mourning her mother while trying to comfort other kids not much older than she was. I don’t miss the parallel of her loss and Grace’s either, which is maybe why my heart aches for them both. Selfishly, I hope Riley is a peek into Grace’s possible future, one filled with light after an early tragedy. That’s what I want for my daughter—happiness.
I feel like everything she just shared is only the outermost layer on the onion that is Riley Stefano, and I regret that I judged her so quickly and incorrectly, because she is already proving to be so much more.
“You’re good at it. I’m sorry it came at such a high price, but you’re a total pro. Saving not only lucky kids, but stupid dads with zero sense too.” Self-deprecation isn’t my usual style, but the reminder of what I am to her—the bumbling father who signs her paychecks and nothing more—seems timely.
She blushes. Well, in the dim lighting on the porch, I can’t be sure she does, but she ducks her chin like she doesn’t want me to see her reaction. “Thank you. And you’re not stupid. You’re a great dad. Grace is lucky to have you.”
“Yeah?” I ask, startled by the praise. “I don’t feel like it.”
The admission should be difficult. I’m used to shoving my feelings down, hiding my anxiety away, and showing a façade of complete confidence to the world. I think that’s why I work so hard to make sure I’m doing a good job with Grace—because no one expected me to. Myself least of all. But she’s the most important thing in my life. She’s it for me.
Riley looks at me in disbelief, and with her sharing so much of herself, giving no regard for how vulnerable it makes her, the words come easier than usual.
“Most of the time, I feel like I’m wading in crystal-blue, beautiful water, thinking everything is fine, when I’m actually completely unaware of the dozen piranhas, two sharks, and killer whale hunting me, all ready to rip me limb from limb and eat me alive.”
Riley laughs, and a warm feeling spreads in my chest. I’m not a funny person, so making her laugh feels like a major accomplishment. “Graphic,” she says. “But you know you’re a good dad, so quit fishing for compliments.” Riley’s eyebrow arches as she waits for me to catch the silly pun.
I’m not a jokester, so I’m not sure what’s gotten into me today, but before I can question it, I mime casting a line and reeling in a whopper, then wave my hand like ‘give me something, please, anything’ and wait eagerly to see what she comes back with.
She tilts her head, her eyes going serious as she peers at me. Waving her hand between us, she says, “This is pretty chill.”
The words are weighted with importance and make me feel successful in an entirely different way than some deal negotiation does. Riley’s scrutiny is deeper somehow, and her approval hard-won.
And of course, she’s right. This is chill. It’s been a better Saturday than any I remember. Actually, I don’t even remember last Saturday. Today just became my new benchmark.
“Thanks to you.”
RILEY
“How was your day?”
It’s mid-week, after dinner, so I’m supposed to be officially off the clock, but this new routine isn’t about a paycheck. It’s… normal. Cameron comes home, where I’ve got dinner waiting, and the three of us sit down to eat together. After that, Grace will disappear upstairs to talk to friends and shower while Cameron and I clean up and then move to the living room to talk about our day. Usually, we end up like we are now, sitting at opposite ends of the couch, our eyes ping-ponging over each other while we talk.
It's comfortable and easy, two things I secretly enjoy because they give me a sense of peaceful calm I rarely experience. And yes, I’m hoarding every single one of these moments like little precious gemstones so I can carry them with me when I go. Whenever I’ve moved on to whatever’s next, I’ll close my eyes and live in these moments again, remembering Cameron and Grace fondly.