by Iris Parker
"Let's go find the security office, shall we?" I asked, offering my hand to the girl.
"Yeah," she said sullenly. "I know where it is."
Dominick
Steven, the head of security at Ristuccia Memorial Arena, seemed a little annoyed as we entered.
"This young lady got kind of lost, and she needs to call her mother," I said carefully.
"And she doesn't have a phone?" Steven asked.
"I do," the girl offered.
"Well, there you go then," he shrugged.
Keeping this quiet was going to be harder than I thought.
"I think it would be best if you called," I said, trying to explain as neutrally as possible. "She's been lost a while, and I'm sure hearing an adult voice would help."
"That doesn't make any sense," Steven said.
"A lot of things today don't make sense," I said, thinking about the virtual piano that had just been dropped on me. If this had been a cartoon, I'd still be all crumpled up like an accordion, and my head still felt exactly like that. "It's a long story. Please, can you call? I'd appreciate it."
Steven raised an eyebrow at that, but asked the girl for her mom's number. She dictated it dutifully, and I did my best to remain calm. For her part, the girl's cheeks were crimson and her face was downcast.
"Hello. Yes, I believe we have your child here. Yes, ma'am. Yes," Steven said, and I could dimly hear the panicked feminine voice on the other end. "What's your name?" Steven said, addressing the girl.
"Ali," she said, and the shimmer in her eyes told me she was close to tears. I didn't blame her. Why hadn't I asked her name? I'd been with her all this time, and it just never occurred to me.
Immediately, I wished I could make that up to her. It should've been almost the first thing I asked, and instead I found it out by eavesdropping on a phone call. Granted, I'd been in shock, but that was no excuse—I was the adult here. No wonder the kid was so upset.
I wanted to comfort her, but didn't know how. Would hugging help at all, or would it just come across as creepy and inappropriate? Besides, I was still wearing all my gear from practice. Hugging a collection of pads and plastic hardly seemed reassuring.
"Ali. That's a good name," I whispered, putting my hand on her shoulder and hoping the contact was worth at least something. She gave me a weak smile in return, and the enormity of what had happened began to sink in a little more.
"It'll be okay," I told her. I hoped I wasn't lying.
Helena
I was out the door before the man finished hanging up, my rush to the car paused only to tell Mrs. Lauer that Ali had been found. I owed her that much, at least. Always dependable, the kindly older woman had come running as soon as she'd heard my daughter was missing. Her presence had been the only thing to keep me sane this long, helping me rule out an abduction while I was still fearing the worst.
The door to the house had still been locked, and there were no signs of a struggle anywhere. Aside from Ali, the only things missing were the kind of supplies that Ali herself would want to take with her. Her backpack, her favorite teddy bears, and the snacks I'd left for her that morning.
It was a tremendous relief to know that Ali hadn't been kidnapped, even if it raised other disturbing questions. Why would she run away? She was a happy child and we got along together well, with no major fights or disagreements. Up until today this had been a perfectly average week, a smooth start to a normal summer.
The news raised other doubts as well. Had there been warning signs that I missed? How could she, so mature and so immature at the same time, possibly face the world all on her own? Could she survive until I found her? These questions had flooded my mind, interrupted only when the phone rang with good news.
She was okay.
She was safe.
Jumping into my car, I peeled out of the driveway like a madwoman. I couldn't wait to hold Ali in my arms again, even if I knew we'd need to untangle all this and work through whatever had brought it on. At the same time, I knew that Ali was still young and kids often made bad decisions. There would be time for my questions later, but for now I was still too relieved to be angry.
Ristuccia Memorial Arena.
It was only twenty minutes away, but I already knew that this was going to be the longest drive of my life.
Dominick
"So…," I attempted lamely, at a loss for what to say. Small talk with a stranger was awkward enough, but small talk with a stranger who is also your daughter? When you have no experience with kids, and know nothing about her life? I still wasn't even sure how old she was, for crying out loud.
One way to find out, I guess.
"You're a teenager, then?" I asked, just barely avoiding a how's that working out for you? that would've been the mother of all stupid questions.
Speaking of mothers, Ali's was still probably at least thirty minutes away. I knew because we'd already killed a few minutes looking it up on Google Maps.
Moderate traffic, it said.
The wonders of modern technology.
"Eleven, sir," Ali answered finally.
"Oh. I thought you were at least thirteen."
Ali's eyes widened, then she smiled.
"Thanks. That's very flattering…you don't spend much time around kids, do you?"
"That obvious, huh?" I asked, frowning. Whatever her hopes had been when she came here to see me, it seemed inevitable that I was going to be disappointing. As if it hadn't been obvious by the way I hadn't even thought to ask Ali her name, I was a long way off winning any Father of the Year competitions. And it's not like I'd been gifted with the right genes or anything—if there had ever been a good father anywhere in my family tree, I'd certainly never met him.
From my lap, the phone lit up and told me that moderate traffic had become light traffic.
The wonders of modern technology.
"Oh! It looks like your mom will be here sooner than expected. Fifteen minutes, maybe?" I said cheerfully.
Ali's eyes were glittering like diamonds, bright and clear. They were prettier versions of my own, right down to the golden teardrop shape sitting atop the green iris. I gave her a little smile, and then noticed that her eyes were sparkling because she was holding back tears.
Christ. I quickly realized how my enthusiasm for her mother's arrival sounded, and how it must've seemed to her. The thought ripped my heart out, so I couldn't imagine how hearing it must've seemed to her.
"Not that I'm in a hurry to get rid of you or anything! I just thought you'd want to know," I explained quickly, mentally kicking myself.
Why on earth had I thought that Ali would be impressed by a traffic app anyway? She was probably better with technology than I was, and besides, it would've made way more sense to pull up a cartoon or something.
Parenting instincts.
I had none.
Still, I needed to find a way to keep her occupied…or at the very least, to avoid causing a lifetime of daddy issues in just half an hour of chatting. Maybe I could find an open concession stand and get some ice cream or something. Really, anything to help cut the tension a bit.
While trying to think of solutions, I noticed a tuft of brown fur sticking out of Ali's backpack. I reached over and pulled it up, revealing a stuffed paw. A leg followed the paw, and before long I was holding an old teddy bear.
Ali turned crimson red, but snatched the stuffed animal when I offered it to her.
"Does he have a name?" I asked, smiling.
"This one is Billy, sir."
"This one?"
"I brought two. The other is Bronco."
"Bronco?" I asked, looking inside the backpack. Sitting at the very bottom was another teddy bear, all squished and tattered. I lifted it out very gently, handing it—him—to Ali with a smile.
"You don't think it's silly?" she asked, looking up at me.
"Not at all," I said with another bright smile.
Ali relaxed visibly, hugging the familiar toys against her chest. I didn
't move, just watched as she rocked the stuffed animals back and forth gently. Relief flooded through me, and I suddenly felt incredibly happy and inexplicably proud.
Maybe today wasn't such a bad day after all.
Helena
Out of breath from not-quite-sprinting through the building, my eyes immediately found Ali the moment I walked into the security office. An incoherent, flustered noise came out of my mouth as she saw me and whispered "mama" under her breath, and before I knew it she was back in my arms.
Again.
Finally.
Forever.
"Ali," I said, so relieved that I couldn't stop the tears. Crouching down, I ran my hand through her soft blonde curls and felt as happy as the day she was born. My little girl was safe, and that was all that counted. We stayed huddled together for a long time, not moving or speaking again until Ali shifted to turn her head up towards mine.
It was only then that I realized I wasn't the only one crying.
"Oh baby, are you hurt? What happened?" I asked, carefully looking her over for any other signs that something had gone wrong. "What happened, honey?" I repeated. "Did you get hurt?"
"Not hurt," Ali mumbled, still looking at me as tears streamed down her face. She leaned to the side and turned her head up even further, her eyes focusing on something behind and above me.
I'd been so caught up in the reunion that I hadn't even considered that there might be other people in the room. I turned around slowly and found myself facing a man with impossible proportions. He towered over me, his massive chest overshadowed only by his broad shoulders. His legs were pillars that flared out, thick enough that he must've had muscles on his muscles. His knees were…uh….
His knees were made out of plastic, apparently?
I blinked away what was left of my tears and stared, my brain slowly catching up to reality as I realized he was wearing a bunch of hockey gear. He'd probably been watching my entire reunion with Ali.
"Oh!" I exclaimed, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious of having such an emotional outburst in front of a complete stranger. I glanced around the room nervously, spotting a security guard that I'd also completely failed to notice. "Thank you both so much for taking care of my daughter. I'm not sure what happened exactly, but I can't begin to tell you how glad I am that she was safe and taken care of," I babbled, barely recognizing my anxious voice.
Whatever had been going through Ali's head, once this all was over with I'd definitely need to have another talk with her about strangers. The hockey player was staring back at me, his face ashen as he stood motionless.
"We're glad we could help, Ms.…?" the security guard asked.
"Bramford. Helena Bramford. And she is Ali, but I guess you've already met…."
"Ali gave us a fair bit of trouble," the guard explained patiently. "And almost took a nasty spill on the ice. Luckily, Mr. Henderson was there to catch her."
I glanced back at the hockey player, whose stare still remained unbroken from when I first noticed him. At least now I knew why he was here—he'd saved her from hurting herself—and I was grateful for that.
Grateful…and also irritated. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to analyze my emotions before letting them get the better of me. It was a habit I'd built a long time ago, the only thing that had kept me going during my disastrous attempt at a traditional high school education.
Why did the hockey player irritate me?
The idea that a complete stranger had touched my daughter was, of course, a little disturbing no matter how well-intentioned. His constant stare wasn't helping matters, but neither of those things were why I felt so upset. There was more to it than that, something deep and powerful.
Frustration.
Wild, animal frustration. The kind that howled at the world and clawed at my chest from the inside. My baby girl had almost been hurt, and I'd been completely powerless to stop it, just as I'd been powerless all day today. It was only luck that had saved Ali, and that was terrifying.
I slowly opened my eyes again and forced myself to smile at Mr. Henderson, carefully reminding myself that none of this was his fault. He had been helpful. Even if his presence reminded me of how awful today had been, I could at least be polite. After all, this was probably the last time I'd ever see the man.
I could live with that.
The security guard thrust an official-looking document at me, tersely asking me to sign it. I nodded, carefully looking the paper over. It was a liability release, promising I wouldn't try to sue the Arena over the fact that Ali had effectively broken in. As I read, the hockey player finally moved.
"I'll be right outside," he whispered—to Ali, I noticed—and gave her a smile. She nodded back, and he slipped out the door.
What was that about? I wondered, signing the paperwork and peering down at Ali. Everything about this was surreal. Not only had my perfect daughter run away from home, but she did it to trespass? In a sports arena? As far as I knew, she'd never watched a game of hockey in her life.
None of this was adding up.
Ali was holding Bronco and Billy by their paws, her apologetic gaze alternating between me and the door. Knowing her as well as I did—or at least as well as I thought I did—something told me that this wasn't over after all.
Not by a long shot.
Dominick
If I'd been a worrier, I would've bitten my nails.
Except I'd grown out of that stuff long ago. It took a lot to unsettle me these days, but waiting outside the office for mother and daughter to come back out was pushing the limit of my cool.
I guess finding out that I was technically a dad qualified as a lot, after all.
Of course, on some level I'd always known it probably had happened. That some family out there had to benefit from the donation, that there might be someone out there who looked a lot like me.
Of course, knowing that it had probably happened is quite different from actually meeting a flesh and blood child who had my eyes, or hearing her say that I'm her father. It was like the difference between knowing how to skate and playing hockey in front of thousands of fans.
It was the difference between knowing that tigers are dangerous and being cornered by one, desperately saying nice kitty over and over.
Besides, I'd always assumed that whoever used my donation would be a couple. That the kids would have two parents, that they'd never even know about the clinic or me. Ali was nothing like the abstract, hypothetical children I'd imagined. I never thought I would have an actual daughter, let alone one who wanted to meet me so much that she was willing—and able—to track me down at age eleven.
I have a daughter, I thought. Those four words had been echoing in my head constantly, over and over again as I struggled to make sense of what had happened.
The office door opened and Helena stepped outside, freezing the moment she saw me. "Thanks again for your help," she said a little stiffly, her voice full of uncertainty and confusion.
At that moment, Helena looked as small and fragile as her daughter. It was obvious that Ali still hadn't told her the news, and I had no idea how this was even going to work. Was I supposed to be the one to tell her? To intrude on a private family matter like that?
It felt all kinds of wrong.
Of course, it also felt all kinds of wrong to hide behind an eleven-year-old girl.
"You're welcome," I said cautiously, offering Helena my hand. She took it and we shook, her skin marvelously smooth and silky. I looked at her again, recognizing for the first time how attractive she was.
Hair up in a bun, angelic face. Kind of like a hot librarian. Smoking hot, actually.
And, of course, no ring on her finger either.
And just like that, I had two problems.
I wanted to kick myself. As if things weren't complicated enough already, being attracted to Helena made things that much worse. It's not like I was the dating type, and surely sleeping with her could only add an immense strain on an alre
ady difficult situation.
Of course, so would resisting the urge to try.
Either way, this was going to be harder than I thought.
"So," I said in my best attempt at a casual voice, scratching the back of my head. "Did Ali tell you why she was here?"
"Not yet," Helena said in the same quiet-but-polite voice she'd been using since noticing I existed. "We're going to talk about it tonight. But thank you again for your help."
It was obvious she wanted to leave.
"My name is Dominick, by the way. Dominick Henderson," I said, still trying to decide if a stranger should be the one to tell her the news. I glanced back at Ali. The terrified look on her face convinced me to act.
I bit my lip, knowing I was going to regret this.
But not as much as I would've regretted letting them leave without saying anything.
"Hey," I said in my best attempt at a conversational voice. "The place across the street has pretty good coffee, you know. What do you say we go there and get a cup? My treat."
Helena winced, and I didn't blame her. I'd overshot friendly and accidentally landed straight in flirty. Without meaning to, I'd basically dropped a bad pickup line on her in front of her daughter.
Our daughter.
Not that she knew that yet.
"I don't really think that's appropriate," she said, her voice polite even as her body language practically screamed no. Her eyes were wide, and her head was shaking back and forth rapidly as she spoke. "Besides, we need to get back—"
"I think we should do it," Ali said, interrupting her mother. "Come on, it'll be fun."
"Going to a coffee shop will be fun?" Helena asked, eying Ali suspiciously. "You don't even drink coffee."
"Well, I've been meaning to start!" Ali said, her already-rosy cheeks turning an even brighter pink.
