Page 68 of The Apparent Trap

“Is this what we’re really going to spend the morning talking about?” Carmen cuts in, seemingly less amused.

Amir and I both purse our lips, attempting to stifle the laughter.

My dad starts rubbing Carmen’s lower back, gentle. “Sorry, dear,” he says. “I know it’s my fault you didn’t sleep well. Can I get you anything?” It’s amazing how instantly her expression softens. For all the bluster she had about being irritated with him, I’m surprised how quickly he’s smoothed her out.

And I feel guilty for being disappointed.

“Caffeine always helps me when I’m tired,” Amir says. “Maybe he can get you a cup of Earl Grey?”

I sputter out a laugh, it’s too good. And my dad and Carmen both do, too, the silliness somehow replacing the sleepiness. At all the noise, Lee and Simon both look over.

“What’s happening here?” Lee asks.

“Environmental toxicology and Earl Grey tea,” Amir jokes.

Lee nods, as though that’s a totally normal response. His eyes flick in my direction, questions and heat all in one glance.

Thankfully, my breakfast arrives, and I can look away. I may not be tired for the same reasons as Carmen, but my brain also can’t handle anything more complicated than muesli right now.

I get through the rest of the morning on autopilot. I hustle to eat and get back to the room to pack. We all pile into the van for the last time to get to the airport. I corral everyone’s passports at the ticket counter like the den mother to check us all in. We breeze through the tiny rural airport’s almost nonexistent security. We all get up when our group number is called.

“What’s your plan when we get back?” my dad asks me as we stand in the line to board.

“You know I’m just gonna go home and watch movies for twenty-four hours,” I reply, serious.

“Ah, the couch potato way out.”

“I wouldn’t say—”

“You know,” Lee interjects. Apparently he’s standing right behind me. “‘Couch potato’ is so funny as an insult, because couches and potatoes are like my two favorite things.”

I jerk around to look at him, and there’s a curve of a smile on his face.

“I don’t need defending from accusations of dereliction of duties,” I point out, trying to suppress my own smile that’s desperate to make an appearance. I’m not going to give Lee the satisfaction, though.

“Just saying.” He shrugs. He’s too close to me.

“No, but it is funny,” my dad chimes in. Carmen chuckles next to him.

“By the way, speaking of couch potato’ing,” she says, “Mark, did you see that whale documentary you’ve been talking about is out today?”

His eyes light up. “Oh yes! Perfect. We can watch it tonight when we get back, nothing better for keeping ourselves up and fighting jet lag.”

They talk rapidly as the gate agent takes their tickets and motions them ahead. I watch them walk down the jet bridge toward the plane, ensconced in conversation, delightedly chatting away.

But I’m left stopped in my tracks as I try to swallow down the strange feeling that’s rising up.

He doesn’t remember that we talked about watching that together. A couple months ago, I read an article about it and forwarded it to him. He’d texted back, saying, oh that’s gotta be a banana bread and Chinese food night. It sticks out because I’d teased him about putting banana bread first, and then he’d ultimately gotten me to concede that dessert before dinner while watching a nature documentary is the perfect night.

I was the person for his perfect night.

I’m not the person anymore.

It’s strange, the realization that’s finally washing over me. I’ll always be his daughter, and we’ll always be uniquely bonded. But that’s not a partner. I’ve been a stand-in as a partner. And it’s one thing to believe that Carmen’s not the right woman for him, but it’s another to know that it’s not my place to choose that for him. That for everything we’ve been to each other for so many years—so much the other leg we’ve each stood on when we couldn’t use our own—friendship and family is not a substitute for partnership. And not everyone needs that for fulfillment, but . . . he does. He probably always did.

And we can’t do this part together. We’ve used each other as substitutes for too long.

I miss my mother so fiercely in this moment, there’s a sudden burn in my chest. Not because I’m upset at my dad, but because with this kind of realization about him, I want my mommy to be the person to comfort me. I need her to comfort me, and she’s not here. So many years later, and it’s still not fathomable that she’ll never be here again. I miss having a place to hand over my confusion and know it’ll be untangled for me, like a necklace on a delicate chain. I want to ask her if I’ll be okay. I want to ask her if she thinks that maybe I need someone too. I want to ask if she thinks I’ve been too scared to try. I want to ask her if I’m being left behind, the little girl scared while Dad barrels ahead for both of us and I’m too stunted to keep up.