Chapter 7 Twenty Minutes
Twenty Minutes
The drive isn’t just awkward, it’s unbearable.
Since I first got my license, we’ve spent hundreds, if not thousands, of hours in this car.
It’s been the extremely vivid setting of at least half of the dreams I had about us speaking again, my hand on the gear shift and our windows down as we glided along the stretch of desert between Phoenix and Tucson.
In real life, and in my dreams, we’d pull over, recline our seats back, and listen to audiobooks as we stargazed through my sunroof.
In all that time, including the silent moments of reflection after the narrator has thanked us for listening and Audible has hoped we enjoyed this program, my car has never been so quiet.
I’ve spent the last thirty minutes white-knuckling the steering wheel to the low hum of the air conditioner.
Occasionally, for some variety, one of Yumi’s almond-shaped nails will tap against her phone screen as she scrolls social media. So. That’s something, I guess.
We pull into my parking spot and I hesitate with my finger tracing the edge of the ignition button.
“I…” With only twenty minutes left on the Aliona Timer, I’m not sure how to handle this.
I want Yumi to see my dad and I want his permission to go on the show.
But it doesn’t make sense to bring Yumi in to see my dad, come back out to the car to ask if she wants to do the show, go back inside and ask for permission if she says yes, and then come back out and call Aliona.
But, also, if I pressure her on this and she bolts, my dad’s chance at stability leaves with her.
But also, Aliona doesn’t seem like the type to be lax about a deadline, and if we’re late calling, she might just not even pick up. But if—
“Are you lying to me about how sick he is?” Yumi asks yet again, interrupting my thoughts.
“No,” I snap. I’m getting real tired of—
“Then I’m obviously gonna do it,” she declares with a roll of her eyes. “We can just tell him we’re going on the show.”
“What?”
She lets her head loll back against the seat, bored into submission. “We don’t have time for you to spiral out about what to say to him. Just say we’re doing the show together. It’s fine. If I change my mind after I see him, you can tell him the spot was already taken by the time we called back.”
I don’t miss the switch from we to you, but I do repress it. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Then let me go in first.” I try to hide my excitement as she reaches to undo her seat belt. “To warn him about”—you being here—“them wanting to cast us.”
Yumi blinks, incredulous. “You haven’t told him already?”
“What, was I supposed to tell him before I asked you?”
Cocking her head to the side, she says, “Fair.” It’s the smallest of wins, but so, so satisfying to hear her agree with me. “Are we pretending to be dating now, then?”
“No, I don’t want to lie to him.” Besides, I’m not mentally prepared for that. “We can tell him we reunited at graduation.”
“And that’s…not a lie?”
“You know there’s a difference.”
She shrugs. “It’s your conscience.”
I massage my temples. I feel a headache coming on. “I’ll handle it. Just…can we pretend to be friends for, like, five minutes for him?” I ask, acutely aware of the ticking clock hanging above my head.
“You got it, Noe,” she says brightly, relaxing back into her seat like she didn’t use my nickname to purposefully throw me off-balance.
I try not to let my face show how much it affects me. “I’ll be right back.” I slide the car fob off my carabiner, passing it to her while being careful not to let our fingers touch.
Just as I’m about to ease my door closed, Yumi leans over the console. “Noelle?” she calls, in a voice that’s uncannily similar to the girl I used to know.
“Yeah?”
“Can you just…Whatever version of the story you tell him…” She winces. “Can you try to make sure he doesn’t think I’m…bad?”
Yumi may hate me, but I don’t hate her. So I say, “No version of the story would make him think that.”
The apartment is dark when I step inside, save for the ever-present light from the TV.
“Noelle? Is that you?” my dad calls through a yawn.
I’m surprised he’s awake this late. “It better be,” I say, jingling my keys as I turn the corner into the living room. “Or have you been giving away our key to strangers on the street?”
“Only the really trustworthy-looking ones.” My dad lies under a fleece blanket on the couch, his head resting on the memory foam pillow I got him for his last birthday. He mutes the Vegas/Vancouver game and looks up at me expectantly. “How was your party?”
I puff up my cheeks and blow out a loud breath. “Interesting,” I decide.
“Oh?” He pushes himself to sitting with a grunt (old-person grunt, not hurt-person grunt—an important distinction for me). “What does ‘interesting’ mean?”
I don’t even know where to start. “Do you remember The Adventureverse?”
His face twists, like I’ve asked him if he remembers Wayne Gretzky. “Yes, honey. I could be dead and I’d still remember The Adventureverse.”
I knock wood on the doorframe, glaring at him. “Don’t talk about being dead.” I need to stop wasting time. “Dad, do you trust me?”
“Of course. What’s wrong?” He cocks his head to one side.
“I…I got a call. They want me on this season of The Adventureverse.”
My dad’s jaw drops into a wide smile. “That’s amazing, honey!” After examining my face, his mouth settles into a frown. “Why aren’t you excited?”
“I am,” I rush to assure him. “I am excited. Um, it—you know how the—the show—” It feels like I’m in the Season 4, Episode 15 logrolling challenge. Every time I get my feet under me, the log spins again and I get tossed into the water. “You know how there are teams?”
“Uh-huh.” Realization unfurls on his face, his brows climbing, eyes widening, mouth opening. “Oh! Okay, uh, who’s your partner? It’s not me, is it? Because I don’t think that I—”
“It’s not you, Dad,” I interrupt. Exhaling, I decide to just bite the bullet. “It’s…Yumi.”
“It’s Yumi?” he repeats, voice pitching up on her name.
“Yeah.” I shrug helplessly.
There’s a beat of silence between us before he shakes his head and commands, “Say more words, Noelle. I—this—Yumi?” He gestures around the living room, at a loss.
It’s been a long time since I’ve heard this tone from him.
It surprises me. I expected a lot of things from this conversation, but I didn’t expect parental annoyance.
For the past year, my dad and I have been on even footing.
Equals, basically. I’ve been his emergency contact, his chauffeur, his protector and caretaker. I haven’t been his kid.
“I don’t…I don’t have a ton of time right now.
I’ll explain everything, I promise,” I blurt when he thrusts his jaw out, affronted.
“But I w—” I don’t choose to stop speaking, it just happens.
The power of speech just leaves me, replaced with absolutely nothing at all.
My vision goes unfocused as I enter a mental void.
Pins and needles start at the tip of my nose, rippling across my face in waves.
On screen, the Vegas Golden Knights score.
It’s a home game. I can tell from the logo at center ice.
The Canucks goalie squeezes his water bottle, squirting a stream of water through the cage on his helmet and into his mouth.
I’ve always wondered if that’s something a goalie has to learn, or if it just comes naturally.
If I were a goalie, I think my first instinct would be to take my helmet completely off to drink water, but none of them ever do that. It’s weird.
“Noelle,” my dad says softly, stopping my train of thought before it crashes. “It’s okay, honey. I’m not angry at you, I’m just confused. We’re okay. We’ll always be okay, okay?”
I open my eyes to look at him. I don’t even remember closing them. He looks back, face gentle as he nods encouragingly.
“Okay?” he prompts again.
I swallow. “Okay.”
“Good. I trust you. You don’t have to explain anything. I mean, you do; I would like you to. But I just want to know you’re safe.”
“I want to explain. I will. I just—Yumi is waiting in the car, and I want—”
“Yumi is waiting in the car?” Dad’s eyes go wide with alarm. “Noelle, tell me Yumi is not sitting in your car, alone, at ten o’clock at night.”
“Well, yeah,” I admit sheepishly.
He stares at me, waving a hand toward the door. “Go get her.”
My mouth opens and closes. “I—but—I don’t want her to—ask questions,” I finish, feeling that floaty dissociate-y feeling come over me again, like a plastic bag covering my head and cutting off my air supply.
“About what?” He shakes his head. “About me?”
“Yeah.” I run a hand over my braids, feeling the way the strands weave over and under each other. “She doesn’t know about…everything. And I don’t want you to…you know?”
Heaving a big sigh, my dad stands, pulling me into a hug. “Sweet girl. I’m an adult. I’ll be fine answering questions. You don’t have to protect me.”
He says that, but he’s wrong. I know he doesn’t want to be a burden on me. And he isn’t. Protecting my dad is the most important thing in my life, just like protecting me is the most important thing in his. Since we lost Mom, I’m the only one left to protect him. All we have is each other.
I squeeze him back before taking a step away. “All right. I’ll go get her. But we only have a few minutes left to let The Adventureverse know what our decision is.” I squirm. “Can I tell them it’s okay?”
Is it okay?
My dad’s face settles into neutrality. “I don’t know what is going on, exactly, Noelle. But I raised a smart, capable daughter. If you want to do this, if you think it’s the right choice, then I’ll be cheering you along every step of the way.”
A weight lifts off my shoulders.
“Now,” my dad says as he lowers himself back onto the couch. “Go get Yumi so you two can tell me what the hell is happening.”
I give him a hug before returning to the car. At my knock on the window, Yumi startles. I hear the doors click from unlocked to locked. When she notices it’s only me, she unlocks them again. My dad was right. She really was a sitting duck out here.
I pull on the handle, opening the door but not getting inside.
“What did he say?” she asks.
“He said to bring you inside before you get murdered out here.” I jerk my head toward the house, beckoning her over. “So, don’t mention that you left the car unlocked or he’ll never shut up about it.”
“I won’t,” she assures me coolly, climbing out of the passenger side. I hope my dad isn’t able to tell that Yumi hasn’t fully defrosted toward me.
I take a deep breath. “Listen, I never told him what…happened,” I say before she can round the car. It feels safer to discuss with a one-ton hunk of metal between us.
She freezes, her composed confidence melting away. “You didn’t?”
My grip tightens on the door handle. I shake my head. “No.”
“But you tell your dad everything,” she protests, like she can convince me that I did, in fact, tell him what happened between us.
“Well, I didn’t tell him that.” No. This is a bad idea echoes in my head. “And I don’t want to now, okay?”
I can only see the top half of her face over the car, but I hear the frown as she says, “Okay. I won’t say anything.”
“And don’t tell him I want to do this for him. Also, I know I told you he’s sick, but he looks really different. So, don’t make him feel weird about it.”
Yumi recoils but reins in her reaction just as quickly. “I wouldn’t?” she says, her voice so full of defensiveness that it comes out a question.
“I know, I know.” And I do know. Yumi wouldn’t make my dad feel uncomfortable on purpose, but I can’t let her walk into my apartment without warning her about how severely different he is from the last time she saw him. “Just…I just had to say something.”
I pray she can read in my expression all the things I’m not saying, but I’m not sure Yumi knows me like that anymore.