19. Stella
CHAPTER 19
STELLA
“A re you ready for your call with Dad?” I watch Jessie’s face for any signs of sadness or stress, but her response is neutral, as if I’d asked her if she was ready to have dinner or run an errand with me.
“Sure.” She puts the crayon she was using back in its box, closes the lid, and follows me out to the dining room for a video chat on my laptop.
Brandon isn’t a super-involved father. He does consistently help out financially, which he’s legally required to do, but it’s a small amount because he doesn’t have a great job. Despite completing his engineering degree, while I had to drop out to take care of Jessie, he works in maintenance at a hotel and doesn’t make much.
He cares about Jessie, but the two of them never formed much of a bond. I never badmouth him, and several years ago, I suggested things he could do to help improve his relationship with his daughter, but he wasn’t much for following through. Jessie seems content with how things are, so it’s fine with me.
Unlike my mom and stepdad, he’s been supportive of our move, and I’m grateful for that. He understands that I really didn’t have any other options.
He used to visit Jessie about once a month, or sometimes only every other month, but now we do video calls.
“Hi, Dad,” Jessie says when we’re connected. Her voice is like someone starting a business meeting. Not excited, but not upset, either. I say hello to him, and then let the two of them talk alone while I put away dishes in the kitchen.
Several minutes later, when I hear them wrapping up their conversation, I go in to close the call.
“How was your visit with Dad?” I ask her.
“It was good.”
I keep watching for some kind of emotion or longing for him after these calls, but there doesn’t seem to be any there.
Later, after Jessie’s in bed, I go out to the back porch to relax. It was a warm day and the house feels stuffy.
After I’m outside for about ten minutes, a bad smell arrives on the breeze, and I quickly identify it as pot. I’ve smelled it out here before and a couple of times out in the neighborhood while walking the dog.
The neighbors next door are older; they must be in their yard smoking. I tried it once at college and didn’t like it, but I’ve heard that some people smoke it at night to help them sleep better.
Despite my better instincts, I find myself hoping to see the neighbors who live behind me, but things are quiet over in their yard.
I close my eyes and let out a sigh. I should just go to bed, but it feels so nice outside, despite the unpleasant smell. Maybe there are relaxing properties to secondhand marijuana smoke, because I’m getting sleepy.
A rustling sound catches my attention, but I decide it must be the breeze. It’s not Goldfish; he’s inside, sleeping at the foot of Jessie’s bed, so I can’t blame the noise on him.
I close my eyes again and am starting to drift off when there’s a loud crash right next to me on the patio. I jump at the sight of a small furry animal near the back door. A stripe of white fur stands out in the dim light, and I yelp, bounding from the loveseat and off the patio entirely. “Oh my god!”
The skunk watches me for a moment, then apparently decides I’m not a concern. It returns to the flower pot it overturned, digs in the dirt, and uproots the flowers planted there.
I’m muttering curses, with no idea what to do.
The skunk is blocking my path to the back door, Marissa is out with work friends, and Jessie is sleeping.
If I go around to the front, I won’t be able to get in, because the door is locked.
I decide to call Marissa, but then realize my phone is still on the patio, left behind when I scrambled to put distance between myself and the skunk. “Shit!”
“Are you okay?” It’s a man’s voice, and then Wyatt’s head appears above the back fence.
“No. There’s a skunk on my patio!”
When he says, “I’ll be right there,” I assume he means he’s going to run around the block, but the next thing I know, he’s atop the fence, then jumping down into my yard.