female person. Keelan sometimes wondered what would have happened if Julia had inherited her mother’s delicate genes instead of his own Ukrainian-peasant bones and Irish-boxer build. Would boys have liked her more? Would she have liked them?
At any rate, there was no doubt anymore that Julia really was his daughter. Among the many blessings of puberty had been the conferring of several unmistakable physical traits: his robust frame, his snub nose, and an identical pair of deep-set, serious eyes. Keelan had been a neglectful husband and distracted father, but he was her father, after all. It was possible that his fears on that front had made him a little less warm towards her than he ought to have been when she was small.
Keelan pulled out the chair and sat down, repressing a groan as his knees twinged. Age was a battle of will. Next to the computer on the desk was a small sheaf of handwritten pages that comprised a meandering letter-in-progress to Julia.
Dear Julia,
I made the mistake of answering the phone the other day. It was someone from CNN. You know why I answered the phone? I thought it might be you.
It wasn’t, of course, and it was the start of this media rollercoaster. Maybe you’ve seen me on television? It’s both thrilling and maddening that I’ve become the voice of their calamity. My inbox has shifted from a place of dread and avoidance to one of stimulation and anticipation. The student emails begging for extensions or for class notes for the lectures they slept through have been buried beneath hordes of messages from national news outlets and major websites. The other day I stayed logged in, refreshing every five minutes, which I think means that I finally understand the younger generations. I never know who might want me next. I’m even naive enough to suppose it could be you.
Oh, I’m a doddering cliché and I know it. I’m a sad old man who misses his daughter.
When those poor souls in New York got sick and this whole thing started, I almost picked up the phone to call you until I remembered last time, when Dory answered. All that unpleasantness she brought up and the things she said you were talking about in couples therapy. Is it true? I thought I’d apologized for all that long ago. I can tell you it isn’t pleasant being berated for things that happened twenty years ago by somebody who wasn’t even there. You’ve found yourself a zealous champion, at any rate. I hope the therapy doesn’t betoken some chink in the armour.
It was a letter that never seemed to be finished, nor ever quite enough. Its tone veered problematically close to antagonistic here and there, especially in the mentions of Dory, but short of scratching out whole sections, Keelan wasn’t sure how to make it more palatable. The sensible solution would have been to forego the attempt, but it was too late for that. It was a strange impulse that had set him writing, but it might take a stronger one to stop.
He shuffled the pages back in order, leaving the half-finished one on the top of the pile. Then he quickly sent an email to Edith, asking her to drop by with the materials the next day, and responded to a few more media inquiries.
The timer on the stove dinged and Keelan returned to the kitchen. Using a pot-holder, he removed the pizza to a cutting board, where he divided it into four slices using his biggest knife. Then he put all four pieces on a large plate, poured three tall glasses of tap water, and—setting everything on a tray next to a roll of paper towel—brought it into the living room.
He turned on the news. He was momentarily confused by the image of a crowded football game until the field gave way to a clip of a full classroom, then a busy shopping mall, and a large-yet-peaceful protest scene, with people carrying signs reading NO FRACKING and PLANET BEFORE PROFITS.
“The ARAMIS crisis has made images like these a thing of the past in cities across the U.S., from New York and Miami to Austin and L.A.,” the announcer was intoning. “Regular life is on hiatus for millions these days. Public gatherings are still restricted. Schools, by and large, are closed. Most offices are allowing employees to work from home, and many businesses have either temporarily shut down or closed altogether. The only places that are still bustling are the