‘Dad’

something in the way Nina says his name shifts; the word becomes a title, an endearment, a longing. His name becomes something paternal, reverently leaving her mouth instead of the spitting hiss of her usual sarcasm.

Somewhere between “of course I give a shit about you” and “Around you I’m the man I once was” ‘Davie’ starts to sound a hell of a lot like ‘Dad’.

But despite all of her being his daughter, she can’t bring herself to call him dad. The word sits wrong in her mouth, speaks of this untouchable concept she longed for just out of reach, warped by abandonment. He isn’t Dad. She resents the word ‘Dad’; a title unfit for Davie. For her Davie. He is every bit her father, and everything ‘Dad’ could never be.

“Do you think Lane and Ania are watching us?”

Nina’s tucked up under Davie’s chin, cradled back to chest on the couch. the silence that follows makes her fidget with his fingers, twined with her own on her stomach.

“Davie?”

Nina’s not good with silences.

His responding “Hm?” reminds her of the absent minded sleepy conversations on the living room floor. Reminds her of broken glass and quiet reassurances. Reminds her of Star Wars and black coffee.

“do you think Lane and Ania are watching us?”

“I think they’re sitting up there taking care of each other like you and me. They’re up there conspiring, I betcha.”

a stutter of breath marks his hesitation, they’ve never been good at the mushy shit.

“i reckon Lane sent me you, and if I can guess anything about your momma I’d say she sent you me.”

Truth be told neither Davie nor Nina really believe in a higher power but the thought is nice. A final resting place with your lost and loved. Arms to receive you after lonely cold nights.

“I’m glad they did”

“Me too, baby”

But who needs receiving arms in death when she has these ones wrapped around her right now?

Davie knows Nina can’t fill the gaping hole Lane left. But Nina, despite his best efforts, carved her own place in his chest. Yeah, He could love two daughters.