entertain Ted’s digs at Eric. I need to get up to my room, back to Astrid’s book.
I start to turn away from him but then pause. “Ted?” I say. “Do you know anything about that guy who keeps walking around town, dressed in all black?”
Ted sucks up more of my noodles. Chews them as he thinks. “Can’t say I know what you’re talking about.”
“He seems to stay on roads that run along the woods. And if you go anywhere near him or try to talk to him, he darts away. Takes off into the forest.”
Ted’s eyes flicker with recognition. He sets his plate on the counter. Takes a step toward me. “Maybe he’s…” he starts. Then his hands go up, curl into claws.
“No, I’m serious,” I say. But Ted can’t be stopped.
“… The witch from Forest Near,” he continues, words slow, almost melodic, “here to do the thing you fear.”
He shuffles. He shakes me. He cackles. I bite my lip, even though the urge to smile is weak at best.
“Ted.”
He backs up. Backs off. He can hear that I’m in no mood for our only game. His brow furrows as he reaches for his plate again.
“So are you going to start tonight?” he asks.
“Start what?”
He pushes the noodles around with his fork. “Packing.”
I look at the clock on the microwave, feel Astrid’s book pulling me toward it, the pages eager to turn. “It’s getting late,” I say.
“Late! I’ve been working all day and I’m just getting started!”
“Well, that’s great. For you. But—you know, I thought we were going to be doing this together. That’s why I came.”
His fork clinks against the plate. “You’re mad,” he says.
“No, I’m just—”
“You are.” He shakes his head, his eyelids drooping with disappointment. “Fern, you know how important the work is.”
“I do, but—”
“And you know that for me to stop would endanger the whole thing. Projects like these are very fragile in their early stages.”
“I know. I’m sorry. All I meant was… I thought we’d have a chance to spend some time together. Before you move a thousand miles away.”
Ted chuckles. “What, like father-daughter bonding? That’s not really our thing.”
A lump hardens in my throat. I think of all the times Eric and I have visited his parents in Virginia. His mom sets the table with their wedding china. She makes appetizers and salad and a main course for dinner. There’s always a choice of two desserts.
“I didn’t mean we’d hold hands and skip down the street,” I say. My tone is sarcastic, but my voice wavers. “I just thought—since you’re retired now, you would”—I shrug—“have a little more time for me? But instead you’re still always working.”
Ted’s eyes narrow. Then he steps on the foot of the trash can, scrapes the rest of my noodles—still half a plate full—into it.
“You act like my work is such a terrible thing,” he says, his voice all steel. “That you’ve been so deprived. But my work is who I am. And for a long time, you were the work. Helping me with my Experiments. Donating yourself to the cause. What better bonding is there than that? We’ve had interviews, Fern.”
I take a deep breath, register for the first time how exhausted I feel. “I just thought we could talk.”
“We’re talking right now.”
“Share a meal together,” I continue. “Discuss what’s in Florida in the first place. Something.”
Ted tosses his plate into the sink. I’m surprised to hear it only clatters instead of breaks. “Something, huh,” he says. “I never laid a hand on you, you know.”
To most people, it would be a non sequitur. But as soon as he says it, I understand what I’ve triggered.
“I know that,” I say.
“I never pretended to be one person out there”—he points toward the front door—“and another in here.” He jabs his finger against the counter. “You never had to wear sweaters to school in May so the teachers wouldn’t see.”
“You’re right. I didn’t.”
And this is why I don’t blame Ted for the father that he is. How could I, when his blueprint for parenting is so faintly drawn?
His father was abusive. His mother practically mute. Ted says the only words he ever heard her say were Yes, dear, I’ll do that, dear, even while her husband was beating their son with a cutting board. I never met Ted’s parents—he cut off contact with them as soon as he left for college—and now they’re both dead. His mom passed away when I was in high school. Cause of death: falling down