Page 233 - My FlipBook

T R A I L O F C R U M B S

“You’re looking well.” He grinned, his Adam’s apple
working against the emotion in his throat.
No thanks to you. She stepped forward into the living
room, the furniture around them just a dusty set from a play
they’d seen long ago. She held every emotion in tight, all her
defences up. And still fought the impulse to touch him. Like
a piece of her own flesh returned to her body again. Greta
wanted to feel his breath, his warmth. That groove between

his eyebrows so much like Ash’s. Roger, back from the dead.
“How are you?” Roger stammered. “How’s—”
“You left us. You chose her.” A robot speaking.
Roger swallowed, his tears so immediate that Greta
wondered if somehow the body heard the words before they
reached his ears. “Yes,” he croaked. “I did.”
She observed him, his mouth twisting and hands trem-

bling. Greta knew the next question should be why, but she
didn’t want to provide the platform for his remorse. He’d have
to do the work all by himself. She’d provide no stepping stone
for his sad story.
“It was a mistake. I’m so sorry.” He barely got the words
out.
Greta stepped closer and laid her fingers on his hand,
just to see if she could still the trembling. Curious. No. Roger
took it as a sign of affection and grasped her hand tightly.

She recoiled. He flinched.
“What do you want, Dad?” she asked.
“I just wanted…I wanted…” As though her question
caught him off guard. “Well, Patty and I are done. That’s over.”

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