Dad

He lets out a sigh. Getting stuck in traffic certainly wasn’t on his holiday itinerary. With it being Black Friday, there must be hundreds of cars pressed nearly bumper to bumper as they rush to go shopping. And the ones who aren’t going shopping are probably trying to get home to their families.

He’s not going home to his family. Well, not really. He’s going back to the house he used to live in, but only to drop Sarah off, and then he’s driving back to his apartment to spend the holidays alone. Which, though not ideal, has been the usual for years now.

He looks at the backseat through the rear view window. He can see Sarah curled up in her seat, noise-cancelling headphones shoved over her bright red hair. She’s sleeping—has been since the traffic jam started.

He doesn’t know how she’ll react when she realizes they’ve only moved about a mile in the last two hours. She never wanted to hang out with him in the first place, so added time isn’t exactly an extra point on his scoreboard.

The same old Christmas songs are starting to loop back around on the radio. It seems that every year the playlist gets shorter, until one can predict the oncoming songs with little thought behind it at all. He sighs and turns the dial down, wishing he had brought a phone charger, if at least so he could listen to a podcast of his own personal preference. 

Sarah wakes up. 

Over the sound of Paul McCartney’s voice pouring through the radio, she curses, loudly. “We’re no closer than we were before, are we?”

“‘Fraid not, k—” He was going to say kiddo, but he’s been biting back his nicknames for her since the divorce. Besides, she’s seventeen now, and he doesn’t want to embarrass her with old nicknames. “–Sarah,” he amends, attempting a smile at her through the rearview mirror.

Sarah stares at her phone and scowls. She has the same scowl as her mother. “My phone’s dead and I think I left my charger at your apartment.”

He stays silent, not sure how to fix this. If he were a more selfish man, he’d take this time to bring up his past mistakes and beg for her to love him again, but it’s way past time for that. So he sits; thrums his fingers against the steering wheel.

Sarah climbs into the passenger seat. 

She huffs. He glances over to see her furiously trying to put her hair in a bun, hair tie between her teeth. She got her wild curls from her mother, too. Sometimes, he wonders if she got anything from him. If she sees any part of him in herself. “Mom won’t let me go over to Jonah’s on Christmas.”

“Who's Jonah?”

“My boyfriend,” Sarah slumps against the seat. “And save the whole you're too young speech, I’ve already heard it.”

He closes his mouth. Then shrugs. “You’re seventeen. I guess it was going to happen sooner or later. Anyways, why do you need to see him on Christmas?”

“Because we’re in love, Dad!” Sarah nearly whines. She props her feet onto the dashboard and crosses her arms. “Mom says Christmas is for family only.”

He nods sympathetically. He remembers being seventeen and in love. “Maybe… Maybe tell your mom that Jonah is part of your family. And then promise her you’ll only go see him for a few hours. I’m sure your mother gets lonely without you.”

“Tell me about it,” Sarah grumbles. “It’s stupid, you know?”

“What is?” Snow falls steadily against the windshield, sticking only momentarily before the wipers quickly push them away.

“The fact that you guys got divorced,” Sarah’s voice is quiet, like she doesn’t want to say it. “We used to have so much fun.”

“Yeah, we did,” he swallows down his apology. The first year after the divorce was nothing but apologies, and he reckons Sarah is tired of hearing them.

“Why’d you do it, Dad?” Sarah’s voice cracks, and she quickly directs her gaze to the window. “Mom is so nice, and pretty, and you just…”

“I know,” he interrupts. “I betrayed her, and it was the biggest mistake of my life. But I can’t… I can’t take it back. Once that trust is broken, it’s broken.”

“I hate you for it,” Sarah admits. She watches his reaction, like she thinks he’s going to chastise her. He wonders if her mother chastises her at home for talking about him like this. When he says nothing, she continues: “Whenever I see you, I just think of how selfish you were to cheat on her. On us. And holidays suck so bad now, you know? Because it’s just me and Mom, and I think of calling you but then I remember what you did, and it makes me mad all over again, so I never do.”

He wipes his eyes. “I wish you would call me. I miss you.”

Sarah’s lip wobbles. “I miss you too.”

The line of cars starts moving. Steadily, they make it home, nothing but the sound of their sniffles to accompany the silence.

-

“She’s going to freak out,” Sarah breaks the silence when he pulls into her neighborhood.

And there she is, standing in the yard between two light up reindeer, hugging herself to keep warm. He can see her glare from a mile away, as she wraps her dressing gown tighter around her body.

“I was worried sick! No calls, no texts! Are you both crazy?” Elizabeth yells as soon as they climb out of the car. Snowflakes are settled atop her auburn curls. She’s scowling at him, but she looks beautiful. His heart lurches.

“Hey, Liz.” He mumbles. “The roads were jammed, and neither of us had our chargers with us.”

“Because Sarah got her stupidity from you,” Liz gripes at hime, no real bite in her voice. She stomps down the stairs in her slippers to hug her daughter. “I’m glad you guys are safe,” her voice softens as soon as Sarah hugs her back. 

He thinks of different circumstances. Of what the holidays would’ve been like if he had been a better man.

“Thanks.” He shuffles on his feet. “I’m gonna go ahead and drive back. I think the roads should be clearer by now.”

Liz stares at him. Her emerald eyes are warm with a grace he doesn't deserve. She gives him a hesitant smile. “Maybe you could come in? Just to warm up?”

He smiles back.