Dad used to be around. Sure, he was never really the goofy, homely type - I never met that part if it existed - but he used to be home. Drive us to school on weekdays, early so i'm waiting by my locker for Pamela who loves arriving 'fashionably late' as she puts it though it's really only because she keeps snoozing her alarm every time it comes on.

On Saturdays, he'll be home too, and we'd all watch a movie we've probably watched before and order popcorn from Francis because he's never been the popcorn-making, barbecue-grilling kind of dad. But he was around. Trouble only started when Danielle turned sixteen and insisted she wanted to start driving, own a car, that her friends had one too, get a license.

She got the license but not dad's approval. So, Saturdays we weren't four watching a movie we'd watched before anymore, but three. Then this last summer, no one wanted to watch a movie anymore 'cause dad wasn't home. Danielle said to hell with To all the boys I've loved before 2, and Toby said he wanted something DC.

I said bye to the t.v, told Toby he could have it. I don't know if he was happy about it or not, my family was falling apart.

That's why when I met dad in the kitchen this morning with of course, his black suit on, seeping dark coffee and trying small talk, all my answers where tight-lipped. And when he stood up to leave for work that he's sorry he can't be around this Saturday, I told him it was fine. That it's not like we aren't used to it anyway.

I said that 'cause I thought it was fine. Because I didn't expect any type of guilt to get out of static form and begin crawling over my skin like I'm not right. Like I'm lying. Like we all aren't indeed used to not having him around and i'm the only one who ever knows when he is since it's always early as dawn, having me jump down my balcony instead of using a door. Like we aren't used to it anyway.

Yet still. "I shouldn't have said that."

"You're used to it?" He asks, looking more pitiful than ever. Shutting the door without any noise, he starts toward the round table, ending at the corner that thankfully keeps him far away from me.

I watch him clasp his hands on the glassy laminate, clasp and unclasp, eyes staying distant. I watch him stay quiet for too long.

"Dad."

He lifts his head, meeting my eyes for a fleet second then as if realizing his might now be red, doesn't let them properly meet mine again.

Biting the insides of my cheek, I wonder if I should or shouldn't speak. Or maybe If I do speak, it should be bashful words asking him why he seems to be so worried now when he's the one who willingly hasn't let himself be present for months.

He dropped my brother and I off at school on the day we resumed and promised he'd be more around compared to the summer break. He hasn't kept the promise till today, but I'm also not very good at confrontations.

"Why haven't you been home?" I force my voice to come out stern but I know it's wavering.

"Princess-"

"Soledad talked about it the other day and I told her work's probably gotten busy. Busy-er. Even when I'm not so sure that's the answer."

"Nika, I know that I've-" He cuts himself off, looking down at his clasped hands on the table.

Toby clearly got his features from our paternal part of the family, because dad is only a different version of him. Fair skin and overgrown curls. Except that's he's, of course, much taller, bigger, and now wears a suit everyday. Since even Sundays are spent at work. But they express sadness the same way. Or rather, don't express it. Same way Toby wouldn't let tears fall for the life of him, Is the same way I guess dad wouldn't.

"Are you sad?" I ask, arms wrapping around myself. Hello Kitty glittery embroider on the purple top I'm wearing scratches the insides of my arms as I do so. And I stay this way even when he chuckles like I just asked the world's most ridiculous question when it's really more of the world's most obvious. Because he is.

"I'm not."

"Except you are."

He looks at me. Then waves me over to his side of the island, smiling a little when I start rounding a corner. "Maybe a little."

When I get beside his stool, I once again wrap my arms around myself since it's either that or let them stay limp at my sides. Or hold onto the table, or hug him.

"I'm sorry." He says, his voice nearly too quiet.

"It's not sorry. It's not about an apology-"

"I know. It's about me stepping up on my responsibilities-"

"It's not about that either." I correct, moving my elbow out of his grip before resuming the position I'd been in. "It's about you. Are you okay? 'Cause we don't need a dad who's fulfilling all righteousness, being present, but a dad who's okay. Who's fine."

After a little thought that comes from looking out the sun-bathed window screen, I add, "And, well yeah, probably need a dad that's present too."

Soft feet shuffling from behind the door take our eyes towards it, a few seconds and a few glances between us and the door, Toby walks in. Sleepy, grumpy and body drowned in an oversized overall moon-themed pyjamas I thought he claimed he was too old to wear now.

His eyes are sleepy when they find me, but as soon as it spots dad, it grows three times it's size as he immediately looks awake. "Dad!"

Dad's 'yes' is turned into a choked laugh as Toby races over to hug him, struggling to climb on him to deepen the hug. And when he's done, like it's not obvious- anyway, I don't blame him. "You're home?!"

"Looks like I am."

"Dad lives here, Tobias."

"Yeah, but I never see him."

I notice the light in dad's eyes flinch a little at Toby's words and I'm almost satisfied. Almost.

"Are you going to be around now?"

"Toby, don't-"

"Yes." He looks to me, making my brother do the same and I've got this look on my face that i'm sure can only be described as confusion even though it's more of an inner turmoil between wanting this to be true, and knowing it won't be.

"As a matter of fact," He continues, "I was thinking of bringing back Basketball Saturday."

Basketball saturday, well thanks to our lack of creativity at the time of creation, is in the name. Basketball. On saturday.

It's a tradition of ours that, unlike the rest, didn't slowly die down since dad made it a priority to be at least around on saturdays. It kind of just abruptly stopped. There wasn't an explanation and we never really asked any questions. I think Toby did once and dad told him he'd be around the next saturday. As anyone can guess, he wasn't. So, we just let it go.

"What?! Are you-" Toby grabs dad's face in his small hands, eyes getting wider than I would've thought is humanly possible. I move back a little to give them more space. "That's amazing."

"Is it?"

"It is!"

"Okay, but dad." They again both turn to me, all smiles that are rarely on and happy and jolly and- did I just say jolly? "Basketball Saturday is on Saturdays." They look to each other then nod. "Saturday is.. today."

They still don't get it, looking to themselves and nodding. I make a face.

"Dad, didn't you say you had a meeting to be at?" And I said he could go 'cause we're used to it, anyway.

"That," He stretches a palm for me to place mine on, skeptical first but I do, "can wait."

I stare at him, making sure that he's sure. That he's sure he wouldn't last minute disappoint and tell me he's sorry, give me a kiss on the forehead, tell Toby he'll be around next Saturday.

"See." My brother whines at me as if telling me to relax, it's fine. But then there were other things I wanted to ask before he came in.

I would've asked dad if he was seeing someone.

If he's afraid of every August, Is it mom, are we a reminder of what happened, am I a reminder of what happened, is my middle name a problem.

But I've been so sad that a bubbly Toby and dad promising to stay home today has me trusting that my family isn't really falling apart, and if Danielle isn't all about why the hell she can't get an approval to drive from a father who runs an automobile company, maybe everything can be alright.

"Alright, what is it?"

I stop rolling on the spin chair to see Danielle who's already looking at me, disdain written over every facial feature like i'm doing something wrong. "Am I doing something wrong?"

"You've been spinning on that thing for ten minutes."

"Is it too long?"

"Are you kidding me? You literally just walked in, sat on that chair and started spinning."

"Well, it is a spin chair." I laugh when she starts taking a deep breath with her eyes closed.

"Nika, don't annoy me."

"Okay."

She rolls her eyes and falls back on her pillow, texting whoever she was texting before and ignoring me.

"I like your room."

"It's been the same theme for two years."

"It would've been different if you'd let me re-decorate it like I did the rest of the house."

"I think a lot of us can do without your interior expertise."

"Ooh , jealously." I smirk. Well, I think I. I'm probably not.

She doesn't answer so I keep spinning on the chair, but slower than I'd been going before, taking in the scenery that true, isn't new, like she said it's been the same for two years. Different part of the walls are filled with different themes - Paris and fashion, the Kardashians' and makeup, Zendaya and modelling - because my sister's never really known what part in life she wanted to take. Or she did, but has never stayed on the path long enough before switching to another. She does know what part she won't take, anyway, and that is to get a degree in Engineering to work in dad's company. Because first she said so herself , and second she's dropped out of college.

Well, Danielle-Soledad did get the biggest of the rooms, even got space for a movie spot when you go towards the left. I remember when I was around twelve, my brother and I talked about how we'd had enough with the marginalization. That's really what we called it. Well, what I called it, my brother asked what it meant but I didn't know it well myself so I just told him it was a fancy way to describe our situation. We talked on how unfair it was that she got the biggest room, what we could do with it instead, and so begun plotting on how to get her to leave the room. Don't ask me why my eleven year old self was making plans with a then five year old.

And can't remember how it fizzled out too, but it's obvious it did seeing as years down the line, we've remained in our initially assigned bedrooms.

"Dad's staying home today." I blurt out randomly without letting myself think.

When I look up from the carpeted floor to her on the bed, I notice her thumb freeze mid-air, then continues typing again. "He's staying."

"Mhm."

"Hm."

I try to hide the excitement out of my voice, and when I hear it, It's worked. "Later today we should all be out for basketball Saturday."

At this she sits up, pulls at the hem of her tight shorts to conform to her sitting position. "What's going on?"

I laugh, "What do you mean what's going on?"

"Did you ask him to stay?"

"I did not."

Did I? He chose to stay on his own. I might've helped him realize but he chose to on his own. "While I didn't, if I did he still could've said no, come up with an excuse not to."

She dry laughs, purses her lips in a way to show a sarcastic 'okay.'

"He chose to stay, Soledad."

"Okay." She falls back on her pillow, returning to her phone.

"Soledad."

"Soledad." I repeat when she doesn't answer. And because it feels too stressful to walk, I roll across the carpet in the spinning chair, stopping at the edge of her bed.

"Soledad."

"What do you want from me, this girl?"

"Are you mad at me now?" I ask, but a few seconds going by makes it obvious she's gone back to ignoring me. "Why're you so irritated? Isn't this what we've always wanted, for dad to be around, home. Around? Or is it about him not letting you drive?" She rolls over to her stomach, feet dangling in the air as she types whatever. I sigh. "Will you atleast come out for the game?"

"I'm going over to Talia's, so can't even join in. That's if I wanted to."

And it's the same thing she uses as an excuse thirty minutes later when she meets me by the foyer, her coming down the stairs in loose jeans and a tight crop top.

"You could always skip, though. Go another day." She finally gets down the last step, still appearing taller than me since she's wearing trainers and i'm in flops.

"Like I said, I'm over to Talia's."

"Dios, Soledad. Why do you keep saying that? You see Natalie whenever you want to, but you know dad's just.." I lift my eyes to meet hers and i'm met with a look of disgust. Sure enough.

"Just what?"

"Just.. fairly coming-"

"God, Melissa! What?" She laughs but it's dry. "Are you even listening to yourself? If family's a one time thing- if having dad around is a one time thing, an opportunity I have to grasp before it slips out of my grip, which it will, then I'd rather pass. When everything else doesn't work out, there's always a family to come back to. We seem to come from the opposite but you don't want to see it."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to get detached, Anica." She slides her gaze over to me, words coming out clipped and matter-of-factly. "I want you to get detached. Those days you came to me sulking over dad, over how this summer was so different. I'll always be a shoulder for you to cry on, but i'm also here to open your eyes so you don't need a shoulder to cry on. Your hopes are way too high."

I bite the insides of my cheeks, shifting away from her touch but I'm not fast enough so her hands still find their way to the sides of my face. "Anica."

"Toby's happy, you know." I hear her sigh, just when her hands move away. "He's happy 'cause dad's home."

She gives me a look. The one she always gives when I hold my knees tight to my chest. Pity. "I'm glad he's happy."

Toby and dad are in the living room not too far from here and it's obvious since the volume of whatever ps game they're playing is loud enough to let us know who's winning or loosing. And the loser's probably Toby 'cause the last ten minutes have been filled with his tiny voice yelling, 'rematch!'

"Don't you wanna be happy too?"

"I already am." She corners me, and walks forward but actually goes by the entrance of the living room where she stops moving. I go over to her side.

Dad, office clothes now traded for regular home clothes, is seated on a bean bag right by my brother. There's a genuine glint of happiness on his face, a genuine smile even when he pauses the game at Danielle's presence. But she doesn't bother returning the smile. "Quiero ir a la casa de talia."

Dad looks to me as if wondering why I hadn't told her we'll be having one of our family traditions later today, and Danielle doesn't tell him that I did either.

Looking back to her, he hesitates, "Esperaba que todos pudiéramos, bring back our basketball game since i'm off today."

"You're off today?" Her sharp glare awares dad of her anger, and his eyes widen thrice it's size.

I step in to soften the moment by gently taking her hands in mine and sending dad a shaky smile. A smile so nerveous that i'm not even certain i'm really smiling. I'm glad Toby's oblivious, eyes focused on the tv screen wouldn't let him notice they're encounter.

And I hope i'm not wrong. I hope the tight grip of his ps doesn't mean i'm wrong.

"Talia and I have important things to do so I can't be home." She straps on her cross-bag, and starts out of the living room with me following close behind.

When we get out into the cool sun, we remain quiet. I'm in distress, looking to her from time to time. She on the other hand seems very alright. Going through her phone and staring at the gate. Waiting.

"Are you going to wait out here?"

"I didn't ask you to wait along." She answers without looking at me. " If you're tired, you can go right back inside."

I frown. "I'm not tired." She shrugs, not caring. "The Gardeners live far away though. if she hasn't been on her way a long time ago, she's not getting here soon."

"It's.. some guy that's coming. Her brother has something with a classmate nearby." She takes her eyes off her phone to the gate, usual routine since we got out here. "Think a project. Heard the older brother of said classmate's gonna be dropping him off. And i'm on the way so."

"Just come back inside. Please. Cut it off and come back inside."

"I can't cut it off, I've already told Talia i'm coming."

"You act like it's a do or die-"

" 'Nica I'd rather be there than here so drop it. Okay?" She tilts her head to the side urging that I get it and stop pestering. And I do. Pressing my lips together, I sit on the solid borders of the water fountain, watching through the bars of the gate as random cars pass by. One of them is gonna stop and take her along and it's okay. Fine.

A red car stops not long after, honking. I watch as she stuffs her phone back inside her bag.

"Hope all goes well." I say.

She stares up from her bag, sighing when she takes in my disposition. I know i'm trying not to be sad but I can literally see my emotions spilled all over the place.

"Hope whatever you guys have got planned goes well too. And you don't get your heart hurt."

Everything went well. As I knew it would. Danielle wasn't around to see it, but she'll be for me to meager on about it till she understands that our family can be as normal as it was last year's summer. If not better.

Dad, for the first time, decided to be on Toby's team and to be honest I don't even know what sort of team arrangement we had seeing as we were just three. Well, being the only one on my team - coupled with how bad I usually am at playing - I lost. Twice. We moved on to monopoly after and I lost again. Twice. I accused them of cheating just so they wouldn't get too comfortable, but deep down I know I've always been a shitty player.

Even with all the angry bantering, I was alright. Happy, because Toby was. It's been so long since I've seen him have a smile on. That genuine one.

It leaves me having one too. A goofy one even that only gets goofier the closer I get to the clearing. Coming here at night is almost becoming a routine. Sure, there's the possibility of running into a witch-meeting with unnatural beings seeking for some sort of 'offering' that might end up being me, there's also the possibility of running into a certain Tyler who makes it hard for me to breathe because who cares about breathing?

That's why I skipped watching a movie with them at home to go see Pamela. And, alright, going over to Pamela's was a lie. I'm glad dad didn't see through my constant stammering, plus the way I avoided looking him in the eye. He just told me to say hi.

"Does the smile have something to do with me?"

Glimpses of orange light from the fire as I'd treaded down the dirt pathway had me convinced Tyler showed up. Well, seventy percent convinced. Now it's, of course, a hundred.

He stands off the small rock he'd been sitting on, and gestures for me to keep walking since I've stayed stuck in place.

As I approach him, I ask. Hesitating. "Would you have wanted it to be?"

"Uh, yeah. Kinda." He answers calculated, but chuckles and waves it off. "Hey, it's chill."

It takes him repeating the last words for me to actually let it go and stop feeling somewhat guilty. "What's got you smiling, anyway. Looking," he trails off, eyes meeting mine just when I get infront of him. "Happier than usual."

"It's my dad." I'm quick to say and I think I'm smiling. He doesn't seem to need more explanation, and definitely doesn't need me to elaborate but I do. "He's.. he's usually not around- 'cause of work, you know. So, it was nice he stayed home today."

"Ah." He nods like he understands. I hope he does.

"But anyway, I better not bore you out with... all that."

"No, it's fine." He starts moving away from where we were gazing at the water, walking back into the clearing. While I don't follow him, my eyes do, watching his every poise move till he's sitting on the rock he'd been on when I arrived. "You did once say we rarely spoke."

"Yeah but I meant you. You barely speak. So much that I doubt I know a thing about you."

"But you know about my brother."

I stiffen.

My heart skips a beat, only one, and then it's back to normal but last night's every event plays out like a quick movie in my head. We didn't say anything more after our traumatic losses were poured out on the ground, he just later asked if I wanted to start heading home and it sounded more like a question, plus the sky was getting darker so I said yes. Didn't take his outstretched arm, though felt bad when he tried putting it away like he'd never offered, then we walked back to the street together.

"Hey," He says again with a pointed, yet soft stare. "It's chill."

I nod.

"If you think you know nothing about me, you probably don't. And it's fine."

I fold my hands into the warm pockets of my Jean jacket, mumble out the only response I've got available. "Yeah."

We trade a look before i'm off faking as though the view on the left is more than trees I've seen grow for years.

"Alright then," He falls back on the rock, eyes remaining on me as he props himself up on his elbows. Half-smiling. "What do you wanna know?"