The wind makes the leaves swirl around the streets as I hurry into my favorite cafe. I’ve got a little time before the movie and coffee sounds like a good idea. As soon as I walk in, I am greeted by a sudden rush of refreshing air and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. People are sitting all around the edges of the cafe, carefully avoiding the one table that is in the middle of the room. I hear conversations in several different languages; Korean, Japanese, Italian, Spanish. Mixed together it all sounds like gibberish. This place is popular with everyone for its coffee and pastries. I casually walk up to the cashier, who greets me with a warm smile.

“One large coffee, no sugar please,” I tell her.

I used to come here all the time with Mom and Dad before their divorce. The last time we were here together was a few years ago, though. Mom won’t come here any more. She says she doesn’t like the food here, but I know it’s because this place reminds her of Dad. I don’t blame her. If my husband cheated on me, I’d want to forget about him too. I don’t know why I still come here, but I do.

As I grab my coffee and turn toward the door, my phone buzzes. It’s a text message from my girlfriend.

“Have 2 stop by dorm. Meet you at the theater in 20 min,” I shake my head. Crystal’s always late.

I walk toward the door, holding the coffee in my right hand as I text back with my left. I don’t even look up as someone opens the door in front of me. Then I hear a somewhat familiar voice.

“Spencer?”

I look up from my phone and see Dad awkwardly standing in the entrance. I almost don’t recognize him. His once pitch black hair is now filled with long strands of white hair sprouting from all over the place. He has wrinkles he never had before, and he looks thinner than I remember. Before I can decide whether to acknowledge him or not, Dad gives me a hug. I step back, shocked. Immediately, I’m 16 again, stepping through the front door of our house after school.

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When I open the door, happy that junior year midterms are finished and ready to play xbox, all I hear is yelling and screaming from upstairs. At first I think it’s the T.V.; maybe one of those dramas Mom likes to watch sometimes. But, then I recognize Dad’s voice coming from their room.

I don’t know if I should walk up the stairs to find out what’s wrong, or just go to my room and stay there. My feet are frozen to the floor right there in our foyer. Dad’s muffled voice vibrates throughout the entire house again. I silently climb the stairs toward their room, walk down the hall, and stand in front of their door, my hand poised to knock. I can feel my heartbeat thudding in my chest and even hear it in my ears.

“What do you want from me? You’re the one who said that you didn’t care anymore!” Dad screams. I’ve never heard his voice like this before. He sounds like a different person. I don’t knock. Instead, I step back from their door.

Mom doesn’t yell back. She only weeps. Something about her crying sounds like a little girl and it scares me. I turn around and walk back down the stairs to my room, afraid that Dad might walk out and spot me. As soon as I enter my room, the whole house shakes with the slam of their door upstairs and I hear Dad angrily stomping down. Every step he takes makes me more afraid and I desperately hope that he won’t come into my room. I hear his footsteps stop in front of my door as he sighs loudly and opens it. His large shoulders fill up the door frame and the doorknob looks tiny as he grips it tightly with his right hand.

“I’ll be out of the house for a while. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll call you or something,” he mutters.

“Your mom and I…” he says as he walks up to me. “I…” He doesn’t say anything else.
He hesitates for a bit, and pats me on my shoulder. I want to say something to him, maybe ask him if everything is okay, but nothing comes out of my mouth and I sit there like an idiot.

Still terrified and clueless about what’s going on, I sit silently with my eyes fixated on the ground. I don’t dare look at his eyes. Finally, Dad turns around and leaves. After a few minutes, I quietly walk up the stairs to their bedroom and find Mom sitting on the floor, hugging her knees, and tears streaming down her face. I want to talk to her and try to comfort her, but the sight of her makes me want to run away. Instead I stand there, watching her quietly. Downstairs, I hear the front door slamming and Dad’s car pulling out of the driveway.

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“I…I missed you! Come on, let’s go sit” he says, gently placing his hands on my back. My back stiffens up at his touch. I don’t say anything. We sit down at a remote table in the right corner of the cafe. He looks around the room, not knowing how to start the conversation. He’s got a large smile on his face and seems to genuinely be happy to see me.

“S..so how’s life? What have you been doing?” he finally asks.

“It...it’s alright,” I murmur. It’s been four years. What does he expect? Does he want me to start talking to him as if nothing happened?

“Do you need help with anything? Do you need any money? Anything you want to talk about?” The questions are coming rapid fire, like from a machine gun. I just shake my head.

“Nah, I’m fine,” I say. We look away, avoiding eye contact.

“You graduated from high school, right?” he asks finally.

I don’t answer right away. I just stare at him. Is he serious? Does he not know?

“I’m a sophomore in college,” I say as calmly as possible. Dad’s eyes widen and he jerks upright.

“Already?” he says as he laughs. “God, I guess it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”



I know he is nervous, but I still want to punch him in his face. I stare at him, narrowing my eyes.

Dad looks up and stares intently at me, as if he can figure out my entire life over the last four years by just looking at my face. I break his gaze and fidget with my phone. Maybe I should have just walked away when I met him.

Dad clears his throat and starts looking around again. I keep my head down, staring at his hands. They have wrinkles I have never seen before. He’s still looking at me, waiting for me to say something and I purposely glance around the cafe. Everybody else seems to be having a regular day; two old ladies chatting and laughing at a nearby table, a bunch of teenagers dressed identically with hoodies and beanies on walking out with coffee in their hands, and an old man buying someone who looks like his grandson a cinnamon roll. I desperately wish that I could be one of them and not be here with Dad. After a long, awkward silence, Dad coughs a few times and speaks softly.

“I broke up with Erica,” he says. I don’t respond.

For a second I almost feel sorry for Dad. But then, I catch myself. Why would I care about the woman he had an affair with? Is he trying to act weak and gain sympathy? Is this his way of making up to me for the lost four years?

My phone buzzes. Grateful for the distraction, I look down. It’s Crystal.
“Where r u? Should I buy the tickets?”

I grab my coffee that I’ve barely touched and quickly stand up.

“I have to go,” I say, clearing my throat. “I have to see a friend.”

“Now? We barely talked!” Dad says, sounding like he’s pleading. He stands up too. “You have my number. Call me when you have time. I want to take you out for dinner.” Dad reaches out for another hug, but I shrug his hands off and walk to the door. I’m shaking for some reason and I don’t know why. All I can think is that I hope I never see or hear from him again. I’m definitely not calling him. As I walk outside, into the damp, cold air, I can’t help but look back. I see Dad through the window, still sitting in the same spot, just staring at the table. I can’t see his face but his shoulders are slumped like a much older man.

I pause for a moment there on the sidewalk, just looking at him. For a second, I almost turn around to walk back into the cafe, but the movie is starting soon. I check my phone and hurry toward the theater.