I helped Lissa tidy up the front room and the kitchen table as Allison started boiling some whole wheat pasta in a pot. All the while, in my busy mind, I knew I hadn’t given Lissa an answer about her “girlfriends” date idea. And this was the worst time possible to ask.

It didn’t take Quilla long to figure out what was happening. The expression on her face started with joy but ebbed a little as she noticed her mom's dour expression. She glanced at me with a slight imitation of Lissa’s expression and went about dressing in nicer clothes without complaint.

I meandered a bit until Allison grabbed me and put me on dicing duty for the veggies. I sliced slowly as Allison hummed and received a recipe card from Lissa. Allison raised an eyebrow and Lissa put up her hands, explaining, “He likes it this way…”

With a smile, Allison bowed her head and committed to her cooking. She seemed to have gained deft speed from her change with no loss of accuracy. She moved so swiftly about her work that I expected cartoon-like motion blur to her bright limbs. I tried to speed up my cutting too and soon nicked my thumb. 

I sucked on it and considered resetting to the form I’d saved hours before but decided to suffice with a little band-aid. Slicing slowly, I had time to ponder. Michael would soon be coming. And that left me with a big question I just had to ask Allison. 

“What will we tell him?”

Allison paused, brushing back her chaotic hair and tracing a calm smile, to ask, “Hm?”

I explained, “Michael. If he asks who we are.”

With a little giggle, Allison automatically answered, “Our names.”

I held onto a parsley stalk and sighed. I wanted to counter Allison’s answer, to bring up how aloof Michael had been to her and all the stuff with me. I didn’t want Michael to know this was me. I only brought up that last part as I sliced into the parsley.

Allison gave a shrug and said, “It’s your call. If you want suggestions I’ve been toying with calling you Corlie for fun. Feel free to use it.”

I had to blink and stare as I pondered that name. It wasn’t really one I’d heard before. It wasn’t bad though. I remarked to Allison, “A bit random…”

She fanned a ladle around as steam started to billow from her work. “Not if you read baby name books for fun, like I sometimes do.” She smirked instead of elaborating on what she meant and handed me garlic to slice. 

Allison sighed wistfully as she sifted through the spices in Lissa’s collection but stuck to the recipe she’d been given. Even without certain possibilities, the room was starting to smell really nice. 

Before long, Quilla emerged ninja-like to sniff. She was stuffed into a red tartan dress which made her fussy. Lissa steadied her and was dressed in formal pants and a sleek top which looked like something she would’ve worn for an interview. Before I could even put the question out, Lissa answered for me, “No. I’m not trying to impress him. Just placate because I know he prefers Quilla in dresses and with me he’s less likely to get any ideas and I’m less likely to let my guard down.”

Finishing with the garlic, I asked Lissa, “What should I say?” I looked to Allison, who gave a smile to Quilla’s dress but was focused on the pasta more than anything else. 

Lissa looked at me after taking a glance at the door. She arched her eyebrows and offered a quick, “Huh?”

“Michael, I mean. To Michael.”

Dipping her head down, Lissa answered, “I barely know what I’m going to say. And crud, I left the dryer on.” Swiftly, she hustled off. 

Appropriately enough, right when Lissa was farthest from the front door, there came a quick, familiar succession of four rings and four knocks. Allison stayed where she was but Quilla darted to the door. I tried to catch her but she was too ninja quick for me and had the door open before I could get there.

She squealed and yelled, “Dad!” Arms reached through the doorway to scoop her up and hold her. A rare sound of rough laughter carried through the opening, followed by Michael.

He was tall, though not as tall as I’d anticipated from my change in height. But I could feel his presence as heavy shoes stepped through the threshold. His hair was curly and dark with just the slightest hint of red. His features were gaunt and peppered by traces of a beard which looked lighter than usual for him. Otherwise, it was the same broad nose and intimidating, dark eyes accented by his thick brows. He wore a brown polo shirt typical for him and he held Quilla easily against his shoulder, where she rested her head.

Shutting the door behind him, he raised his head and looked down at me as he remarked, “Hello. I assume you’re one of Melissa’s guests.” Quilla didn’t move to say anything. I nodded quickly and told him, “That’s right. She’ll be back in a…moment.” 

As I spoke, Lissa hustled into the hallway and brushed back her hair. She said, loud enough for all to hear, “Michael. Good evening.”

Rubbing Quilla on the back, Michael answered, “And good evening to you. I know I didn’t give much forewarning. But I wanted to see our little one.” He bent his arm and Quilla hopped down. Her eyes were locked on her father, who held her by the hand.

Lissa folded her arms but took a step back. “So…just for dinner.”

Michael regarded Lissa blankly, saying only, “At least. And I can smell it already.” Quilla led him forward, around me and around Lissa, to the kitchen.

There was little reaction from Michael to Kinrae Allison cooking dinner. She gave a pleasant wave and said, “Hi! I’m Allison. It’ll be ready in a little while.”

Seizing the nearest chair at the kitchen table, the one Lissa had just been sitting in, Michael set his hands in front of him and looked to Quilla. “So, what have you learned lately, my dear?”

Lissa fumed in the hallway, fussing at her hair, and locked the front door. I approached Michael and Quilla and pretended to be interested in looking out the window at the approaching dusk. Quilla announced her counting skills and all the numbers she’d “discovered”. Even a quick mention of multiplication tables didn’t fluster her, as she had several prepared to recite.

Then Michael asked her a spelling question. They weren’t complicated or strange words but they were definitely words I’d never heard Quilla use before. She pressed her fingers on the table as she tried to sound out “approximate”, as Michael repeated it for her. He had on a calm expression but his eyes were focused on his daughter.

After Quilla floundered with that word and several after it, he gave a sigh. Lissa stood in the doorway with her arms folded. Michael leaned towards her and said, “There should be a dictionary in my office.”

Lissa took a step forward, unblinking. “Is this why you came here? To make her feel bad she can’t recite everything there is to learn by age six?”

Quilla drew her arms in and stared at the table. Without expression, Michael answered, “No. I came here to see how she’s doing. Last year, she scored in the 98th percentile on the toughest test that school of hers bothers to give her age group. She shouldn’t even be there.”

I’d heard bits of this argument in the months previous. Lissa brought back what she’d said then about Quilla’s friends and how much she enjoyed the school. Quilla looked like she wanted to say something but she clenched her lips and traced the table with her fingers. Allison leaned her head over her shoulder from time to time to listen as she stirred. I clenched my small, colorful fists to my side.

Michael gave a soft snort as he answered, “If she wants friends then there are other places for that. She needs to be challenged, to be taught at a better pace.”

Lissa leaned forward. “So you take an interest in our daughter now? Why now, when you haven’t all this time?”

Leaning back with the same unchanging look, Michael didn’t even bother to shake his head or raise his voice. “You really think...I don’t have an interest in her? I’ve taken care of everything for her. I’m always thinking about her and her future.” 

Quilla buried herself deeper against the table as Lissa approached Michael with her feet smacking against the tile. “You talk to and about her like she’s a project or an experiment. Put in such amount of knowledge and it’ll spit out whatever. People are not machines. Little girls especially. You never ask her what she likes or what makes her smile or who her friends are or what she’s done in a day. You just take an account of how much stuff she packed inside her brain, like that will make her happy and successful.”

I wanted to intervene but it was another of those strange back and forth conversations I remembered so bitterly. I felt like they were both on the verge of snapping at one another but Lissa, while sharp with her point, wasn’t yelling and Michael was the picture of relaxed confidence. 

He listened to all Lissa said and returned, “Quilla has so much potential. Just because she’s young doesn’t mean she should sit around and be idle. This is her most important time when she forms good habits of academics and thought. What makes her smile is fine but what’s important is living up to the potential she has right now. Smiles change, as do friends and interests.”

Lissa raised her hands like she was strangling Michael’s neck by a subtle, mental force. Quilla sat up in her seat with a slap of her legs against the chair. She looked right at Michael, who looked back calmly. She took a breath but didn’t say anything.

Allison lifted up her steaming ladle and said, “I never realized anyone could sound like more of an a-hole than my mother but congrats. Not to say you’re wrong in everything but I’m sure at least some people in this room want to kick you hard in the nuts, Mr. Cohen.”

Michael turned around in his seat to look at Allison’s smiling visage as she attended to the pot. He looked her up and down and asked, “You said your name is Allison?” She confirmed this with a generous nod.

Still staring, Lissa began to move closer when he said, “I remember an Allison who was a roommate of Sean Kurtz. Are you that Allison?” For emphasis, he flicked a glance my way. 

I took a long breath and jumped into the quiet lull. I told myself not to panic. I told myself that I knew the words I wanted to say but when I opened my mouth, all plans fell away. I had the void before me. Still, I had words. 

“I’m Sean Kurtz.” 

That drew Michael’s attention fully to me. He looked me up and down. I held my hands out as I announced, “Yeah. I’m Sean. And I’m an anime girl right now. And I like it. I love it. And I love Lissa. And I love Quilla. And I even love Allison too. What do you love, Michael? Because it never seemed like you loved anything from the moment I met you. You aren’t even interested in Quilla except as a thing you can shape according to some plan of her becoming another you. What about what she wants? She loves pirates and ninjas and creating things and…most veggies. She also likes so many things in school and she has friends and she exists apart from you. But I know she loves you because you’re her dad and she loves Lissa too because she’s her mom. And I know right now that you’re not taking the least consideration for your daughter by fighting with her mom and finding what arbitrary things you think she should have rehearsed for you. You want to know Quilla? Watch her play. As for you, Michael…either be here and be less the man who pushed his family away or stay away and find people who can tolerate the kind of man you are.”

When I was done, I couldn’t stop my legs from trembling. I pressed them together to keep it from showing. There was only a stony coldness in his gaze. It never turned from me. He just watched. No color was added to his face. No quivering. No anger. He just watched me and eventually asked, “Is that all?”

Quilla sniffled into her hands. Lissa looked between me and Michael with her mouth clenched tight. Allison glanced over her shoulder but kept stirring. If he wanted a fistfight, I knew exactly where my controller was to turn back into regular Sean. But he leaned back against the chair, settled in his place. It didn’t look like he wanted to make a move.

It was only after several quiet heartbeats had passed that I realized I hadn’t responded to his question. I told him, “That’s enough.”

He arched his eyebrows with his head dipped. Softly, he repeated fragments of what I’d said, winding backwards, “Be less of the man…watch her play. What she wants….what do I love…”

With a sudden suck of air, Michael began, “I could ask you to leave because I’ve paid more than half the mortgage on this house and my name is first on the deed. It’s….my property. I could get angry that you’re getting so close to my wife, even though we’re separated. And I could yell that you can’t possibly presume to understand the situation in my family just from what you’ve seen over the scant time you’ve known us. I could shake the walls in reply to all I know about my wife and my daughter…”

He tipped himself slightly upwards but not in the sort of position where I worried he might lunge at me. He brushed at his cheek and continued, “But I’m here for dinner as a guest, same as you are. And I’d really rather dwell on other things.”

That seemed like an appeal for a truce but not clearly stated. I looked at the table and made my way towards the seat opposite Michael. Allison was nearly done, already serving out the pasta and putting on the final touches. There had been truces like this with Michael before. But he would get noisy, not so much angry but like his voice surrounded all and your senses started to melt. I expected that to follow the brooding but he held back. 

Quilla let go of the table. She leaned away from both me and Michael and edged towards Lissa when she finally took a seat on Michael’s side. Though she was on his side of the table, it was more as a wall between him and Quilla. Michael still leaned around to watch his daughter. My presence seemed hardly noticed by him.

And so this tense arrangement went as Quilla’s sniffles faded to little coughs and picking at her short nails with bits of backyard dirt buried underneath. 

Michael said little as the plates were finally served around. Allison placed Michael’s down just like all the rest and found the last open seat when finished. Michael looked down at the plate with a wistful expression as he leaned over the steam and remarked, “It’s Melissa’s recipe and finely executed.” And that was the recognition he gave Allison, who took it the same as a thank you. 

Clearing his throat with a rough sound which pushed away all other sounds, he set his hands on the table and got to his feet. He remarked only, “Restroom” before he slipped through the doorway and down the hall. I looked to Lissa but her eyes pushed sharply against me until all trace of Michael’s footsteps had receded and the creak of a closing door swallowed the steps. Only then did her shoulders relax as she gave me a proper glare followed by, “That was probably not the best thing to say….”

Allison gestured with a fork and noted, “But Sean meant it.”

Quilla looked at me with her lips curled down and sternly asked, “Do you hate my daddy? And what do you want with my mommy?”

Sighing, Lissa reached a hand out for Quilla’s shoulder but she deftly evaded it and pressed her questions again. I set my hands out on the table and told her, “I don’t hate him but you know that there are certain people who just don’t get along with each other. I told him how I feel. I care for your mother. I love her and I love you. You are both wonderful people who I want to spend more time with.”

Allison jumped in with wiggling anime eyebrows, “And Sean loves me too!”

Quilla fumed a little, like her father at his worst, puffing the steam off her plate. “I don’t like you. You’re mean to daddy and I don’t want you around mommy. Daddy is tough on me because he loves me. You don’t get to speak for me to daddy! I love him and I don’t care what you think of him!”

I could see Lissa on the other side of Quilla with her hand raised, wanting to smack her on the hand or the cheek. I’d never seen her hit Quilla before and I didn’t want to see it happen. I raised my hands and told her, “Alright. Don’t like me then. Don’t talk to me. But your mommy is an adult and she makes her own choices too about who her…friends are. I’m sorry I spoke for you. You’re six and you can talk for yourself.”

Allison cocked her head and asked, “When was your birthday, Quilla?”

Quilla’s mouth had been opening and clenching like she was on the verge of snarling. But Allison’s words threw her off balance. She turned to look and told her, “November 12th.”

Answering with a pout, Allison lamented, “But that’s so far away! Now I wish I could’ve planned your party. Six only comes once. As does seven. You need to let me plan your party for seven! It’s a very special number. But I hope your sixth was a lot of fun.”

Struggling to hold onto her shard of anger, Quilla’s frown seemed to slip. Lissa settled her arm as Quilla recalled her birthday. I’d only heard bits of it second-hand from Lissa. It was enough to put the glimmer of a little smile on Quilla’s face as she recalled her cake. 

When she was done, she still didn’t quite look happy but she also didn’t seem to have much enthusiasm for anger. I kept my head down to avoid her gaze but I was still able to see through the doorway. I was the first to see what happened next.

I expected Michael’s footsteps but the loud version which had gone with him to the restroom hadn’t followed him back. And the person who stepped through the doorway wasn’t Michael. She was a Kinrae.

Standing even shorter than me was a young Kinrae girl with dark hair that hung straight around her head in an even cut down to her firm eyebrows in the front and over her shoulder in the back. She had vast, brown eyes and a faint, lingering frown of her lip line. She wore an all-black blouse with long, glossy sleeves and a matching skirt like mine, only without the white part. Her hips were wide but her bust barely made a dent in the fabric of her top. She held her tiny hands in front of her (I could see the watermark of an imitation Kinrae on her palms) and wore a shading of a blush red across her cheeks.

Allison was the first of the others to notice her. She gave a little gasp. Quilla turned with a frown on her face and Lissa’s mouth hung open. Scuffing her feet, the new girl said softly, “Umm…uhh…my name is Linnea. Michael wanted me…to speak for him. If that’s okay.”

The following silence allowed the echoing bark of a distant dog to invade the house. ‘Linnea’ kept her head down. Her wide eyes darted to Lissa, who was still staring, words absent from her. Quilla was the first to speak, asking only, “Daddy?”

‘Linnea’ wiped away her frown and drew a cautious smile. She clasped her hands a few times and said, “Linnea. But please think of it the same as talking to your daddy. I’ll do my best.”

It was strange how committed ‘Linnea’ seemed to her role to the point I did wonder if this was actually a Kinrae standing in for Michael. He had done work with related imitation device technologies so he definitely could have access to science-minded Kinrae volunteers and he absolutely could have access to an imitation device. 

Quilla looked pained and ‘Linnea’ reflected some of her pain like a mirror. Allison pressed a finger to her lips and then her eyes widened. She jumped up quickly and edged over next to ‘Linnea’, who gave Allison a shy but welcoming look.

With a smirk, Allison put her arm around ‘Linnea’, who flinched and made herself even smaller next to Allison. Her smirk stretching into a full smile, Allison said exuberantly, “Hiya, Linnea! It’s nice to meet you. You’re really pretty!”

‘Linnea’ glanced away, her dusting of red blush deepening. She stammered a little before she finally managed, “Thank you, Allison. It’s nice to meet you too.”

I checked Lissa but she’d barely moved. I thought that Quilla was either on the verge of putting it all together or was hopelessly confused by the way ‘Linnea’ talked. 

Allison offered, “QBC…it’s like this. Linnea knows your daddy really really well and she’s volunteered to make things better because everyone is upset and feeling bad. And I’ll start by telling Linnea…I’m really sorry about what I said about QBC’s daddy. No matter if it was right or not, I shouldn’t have said it. Could you ask him to forgive me?” Quilla mouthed those initials with annoyance even as she continued to puzzle out the new girl.

‘Linnea’s eyes widened even more and her mouth opened. She gave a little sniffle, like the one Quilla had given before, as she said, “No need to ask. You were very right. Michael has his issues with other humans, even those close to him. He’s sorry…for so many things…” The sniffling became louder as tears streamed around the edges of Linnea’s face, dripping off her cheeks. I’d never ever seen Michael get close to crying.

She kept wiping them away but they kept coming back. Eventually, she stopped wiping and just let them flow with a whimpering sob, hands cupping her face. Allison moved to offer a napkin for Linnea’s tears but Quilla moved faster. She jumped up with the napkin next to her plate and offered it to Linnea with a hug around her middle.

Looking down, Linnea gazed at Quilla as she smiled back and said, “Here you go, Linnea. Don’t cry. It’ll be okay.” 

She accepted the napkin and dabbed her tears even as they continued to flow down her face. Taking her by the hand, Quilla led Linnea over to the chair where Michael had been seated. She hesitated and said, “I know your daddy would be fine with me in his seat and I can sample his dinner for him. But…your mommy…I’m not sure how she feels.” Linnea gave Lissa a quick glance before staring at the floor.

Finally, Lissa found words, asking with a methodical, acrid tone, “Is this some kind of game?”

Glancing up, Linnea shook her head. “Not at all. I’m just here to help….just like Allison said.” 

After flashing a skeptical look at Allison, Lissa kept her focus on Linnea as she said, “You tell Michael that….no one else talking for him can change all those bitter years.”

Immediately, Linnea scooted her chair closer to Lissa and grasped her hand. Urgently, she said, “He knows. He knows so well. He’s so sorry for all of it, even things which are still a mystery to him. He’s sorry for the way he is and he wishes so hard he could change. He understands he can’t turn back time and he doesn’t want to. But he wants to make amends.”

Lissa slipped her hand out of Linnea’s and said slowly, “Then he should start. Face to face. Right now.”   

Linnea breathed a sigh through her nose and watched Lissa with sad eyes. “He should. But he knows that there is a face in your mind and the minds of others after so much pain he’s caused. He wanted me to show my face….a different face…so I can better translate for him what he holds back and can’t say with his face.”

Her face blank, Lissa asked, “And what’s that? What does Michael have to say?”

Sitting with her legs crossed, Linnea leaned back in the chair and took a deep breath. She looked Lissa in the eye.

“Just that he knows you’re an amazing lady and he’s sorry he didn’t say it more often before or more clearly. He’s really sorry for all the times he wasn’t there when you needed him…in body and in feeling. He knows that the way he presents himself is cold, cruel, and brooding. But he wants to be warm, caring, and inviting. It’s just really hard for him…”

Linnea continued, winding through little things which she whispered softly to Lissa, things I couldn’t quite hear. When she was done, all Lissa could do was nod. Then Linnea moved on to Quilla. 

“Your daddy is so sorry he doesn’t play with you more. He treasures your heart. He treasures your play. He’s actually intimidated and amazed by you. He only knows how to talk to you in his language, not yours. He has this silly little thought of starting things over and just you and him having so much fun. He wants to know you better. He misses you. But he respects your mother and he knows her and him are better for one another apart. Tonight though, he couldn’t bear to know you were so close and not see you….”

Then, her eyes turned to me. I wanted to say something first but she urged me to listen.

“Michael has treated you so poorly because of jealousy. Because he always felt that you were more like how he wanted to be around his wife and daughter. He envies you and he knows you speak truthfully. He knows the kind of man he is, that’s why I’m here….and I don’t know what else to say but so many quiet and fervent apologies...not just to you but to everyone…from Michael.”

I returned an apology which she implored me that she didn’t need but she eventually accepted it. I offered the same to Quilla from our argument before Linnea arrived. She barely remembered it but accepted after Linnea urged her. Allison pouted and reminded us all, gesturing to the lack of steam over the plates, “And the food I made is getting stone cold!”
 
Lissa was the only one whose demeanor didn’t change and she was the first to begin eating. We joined her as Allison remarked on all the playing Quilla had done after school. Quilla added a second commentary which forced Linnea to listen back and forth to get both sides.

The meal was amazing, although I had no idea how close Allison’s efforts were to the original recipe. I tried to strike up a conversation with Lissa, but it was like I wasn’t even there. She responded normally only to Quilla and Allison. Her harsh gaze on Linnea stayed firm, especially as Linnea giggled at the recount of the veggie ninja and the evils of salt. 

Through the giggles, her tears returned along with trembling shoulders. Cautiously, she touched Quilla on the head then gave her an enveloping hug followed by a small kiss on the cheek. It was something I’d seen Lissa do to Quilla before. Perhaps Michael had done it once but not the same way. 

Allison wrapped them both up in a hug. Lissa stood and took her plate over to the sink as soon as she was done eating. 

That was how the rest of the evening went. Quilla invited Linnea to her room and Linnea offered sincere, emphatic feeling for every little treasure Quilla shared with her. I wondered, as I paused by the doorway, if this was what Michael felt underneath each and every time he’d been around her. 

Lissa haunted the doorways and sunk into the couches. She seemed to have adopted Michael’s withdrawal and plunged her nails into an armrest. I wanted to help. I wanted to offer her something but when a few valiant efforts by Allison didn’t even break through, I knew I didn’t have a chance. 

I swirled a glass of cranberry juice Allison had offered me, sipping little by little. She had her own. There were so many thoughts and questions and regrets cluttering my mind that none of them could get out. Allison didn’t pry, she just sat across from me in the same way she always did, male or female, flirty or friendly. 

The calm was broken by Lissa standing in the doorway, her voice drained of energy as she said, “I called a cab for you two. I’ll pay the fare and they’ll take you home.” It was getting late enough that the bus would be a problem. 

I offered quickly to pay but Lissa shot me down. I tried to offer something. The plan for a date was now a distant dream in any form.

I told her, “If you need anything. If you need to talk or yell or scream, it’s okay. We’re your friends.” Allison gave a little smile but said nothing.

Automatically, Lissa said, “I know….I know. But I can’t do this right now. So…thank you for the meal, Allison. You can return the device whenever you like. Sean….you can have the memory card from my camera if you want to share the rest of today’s photos with your uncle or whatever…I just ask you don’t call me. I need time…..I just need time.” She let slip a little sniffle.

Allison gave a smile with a nod and I vigorously accepted her conditions on calling but told her to keep the memory card, reminding her, “You said you need more smiles. So, you need that card more than me right now.”

Lissa clenched her hands in front of her and said nothing else.