An army of credit cards lay strewn about. Brutus sat beside her, watching videos on his phone.
Brian opened the fridge and took out a jug of orange juice, averting his eyes from the salad False Helen had mixed. Needed to get rid of that. Needed to show up for his daughter as a stable adult. “Morning, princess. What are you doing?”
Tilly jumped and yelped. “Ugh, you startled me.” She knotted her face into a concerned wince. “What’s wrong?”
“That obvious?” His voice was hoarse. He poured juice. Supposed he ought to heed his usual pre-show routine, rest his vocal chords for awhile then do some warmups. Head over to the venue tomorrow afternoon for meet and greet, sound check, and the rest of the rigmarole. Lock step, march through the motions, good toy solider. Joe would have been pleased.
“Yeah, you look like you got hit by a truck.”
“Helen left for good.” There, he said it. Spoke the truth. Didn’t make him feel any better. He drank, seeking to drown his feelings in citrus sweetness. Didn’t work. Perhaps he ought to drink a bottle of vodka. Who cared?
His daughter closed the laptop lid. “Bummer. I was starting to like her.”
“Same. Well, correction. I already liked her. A lot.”
“Sorry, Daddy. You wanna cancel your concert? We could binge on ice cream and watch sad movies.”
“No. The show must go on. But I was thinking after this finale, perhaps we could make a change. Start over.”
“What do you mean?”
He finished his juice and set the glass down. “You ever want to move back to the UK? Head up north, live on a farm like your grandparents do? Nothing but sheep and chickens and rolling green hills?”
Tilly scrunched her nose. “Hard pass. All of my friends are here, and no way am I leaving the country in the middle of senior year. You aren’t selling that plan well at all.”
He conjured a sad laugh. “I suppose not. I think I just need a dust-up.”
She donned a mischievous smirk. “I suppose I’ll allow you to chaperone the senior trip to Cancun if you want.”
“Senior trip to Cancun. Is that why all of my cards are here?”
Her sheepish glance slid from the assortment of plastic rectangles to him. “Yeah. Can I go on the senior trip to Cancun?” Tilly fluttered thick false eyelashes.
Perhaps a vacation with his daughter would calm his spirit with familial bonding. He hadn’t a clue how he’d keep a herd of teenagers out of trouble, though such a challenge might offer a learning experience and welcome distraction. Plus, Tilly had been so good overall, coping with recent madness. He owed her a nice present.
“Sure.”
“Yay.” She clapped. “Thank you. Which card has the highest limit?”
He pointed to the black one he’d planned to use for his and Helen’s trip to the slopes or beach and tried to ignore the churn of his guts.
Tilly scooped it up and re-opened her computer, doing a little dance as she keyed in numbers. “Your girlfriend is the real deal, by the way. At first I thought she was annoying, but I think she’s actually a superhero missing her cape.”
He forced himself not to picture Helen. It was all still too soon, even as he transitioned into the zone of categorizing her as a person from his past. “How so?”
“Yesterday, she took charge. It was cool. I think she knows what she’s doing, what she’s talking about. It was just neat to watch was all. I dunno. I can’t explain it, exactly.”
A smile made of memories graced his lips. “Can you try?”
“It’s like she doesn’t take any shit. She took control of the situation even when everyone was resisting her, was all assertive without being bitchy. Just strong. It was cool. I never got to apologize for being bratty to her, either. Speaking of apologies, I’m sorry that I said that I hated you and that you suck and ruined my life. I didn’t mean those things.”
“A real boss lady,” Brutus said.
Assertive and strong, competent and decisive. A real boss lady. That was his Helen. Sorrow amassed in Brian, dense and indigestible. He needed to exorcize this “his Helen” nonsense. “All is forgiven, darling. And Helen is something alright. One of a kind.”
“So why did you let her get away?” Tilly’s question forged a spike, with Brian a bubble headed to the point.
“I didn’t let her get away. She decided she needed to leave, and she did.”
“But you didn’t tell her all of your feelings. All of the reasons you wanted her to stay.”
He bristled, though his wise child was right. “I did. I tried.”
“Not hard enough. You didn’t make her stay.”
“Well, I’m not in the habit of coercing women, and I wasn’t about to beg.”
“Nah, but what you did was worse. You pulled into your shell, didn’t you? Let everything with Mom and Kris and all the rest get to you.”
“I don’t want to have this personal conversation with my teenage daughter. Besides, what’s done is done.”
Victory glimmered in her eyes. “Ah. So I am hands-down correct.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Sure you did, in your own words.”
He grumbled. “Okay, out of the mouths of babes it is, I suppose. So what am I to do, sage little one?”
Tilly put her hand over her chest and affected a theatrical swoon. “Duh. You execute a grand gesture to win her back. Prove and profess your love in a sweeping declaration of performativity. Like John Cusack with his stereo thingy in that ancient movie. Or a romance novel.”
He drummed his fingers on marbled granite. She made a solid case, and what was he if not a performance artist? Still, though, he had practical facts to grapple with. “It sounds good on paper, but it wouldn’t work in practice.”
Silence followed. He circled a hand, urging Tilly to counter his claim.
Instead, she keyed in the numbers of a different one of Brian’s credit cards.
He narrowed his eyes at her.
With an innocent expression on her face, she
