Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The natural light in the kitchen in the Millers house was one of the points the real estate agent tasked with selling it had loved to point out when showing the house 13 years previously. The home faces southeast, so it doesn't get a direct hit of sunlight, a plus during the long, hot summer months, but it does get just enough of the morning sun to give the room a lovely natural glow.

Two paper sun catchers hang in the window over the sink; one is neatly cut out of purple construction paper and filled with bits of purple, pink, and yellow tissue paper. The second is a rocket ship, clumsily cut from red construction paper and filled with blue, yellow, and green tissue paper. Both are faded now, after almost 10 years of hanging in the sun, but still able to toss flecks of purple, pink, yellow, and blue across the sink and counters, most noticeable during the breakfast rush.

When she was younger, Ellie loved sitting on the counter while her dad or sister made breakfast and spinning the suncatchers to see where the bits of colored light would land. Sometimes, she'd try to angle them to force different colors onto different surfaces or her family's faces until she was told to knock it off; she was going to make the suncatchers fall.

Today, however, the sun catchers are the last thing Ellie is thinking about as she opens and closes the kitchen cabinets, searching for breakfast and frowning at the options in front of her: a box of Cheerios, empty save for a couple crumbs at the bottom, a few cans of soup, and some stale crackers. So much for breakfast.

"Morning, kiddo." Her dad hurries downstairs, still strapping his watch to his wrist, and heads straight to the coffee machine to switch it on, pausing briefly to squeeze her shoulder and kiss her temple. "Sleep good?"

Ellie flinches. She keeps forgetting to turn the coffee pot on for her dad when she gets downstairs first. Sarah always had coffee waiting for her dad in the morning, even before she developed a taste for evil bean juice.

She sighs and begins a second pass through the cabinets.

"Ellie?" Her dad tries again, "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah, I guess," Ellie says, distracted as she opens another cabinet, hoping a new box of cereal or even a granola bar will magically appear.

"You guess?" Her dad repeats, sounding suspicious. "Did you sleep or not?"

Crap, that was the wrong way to say that; her dad gets almost manic about her sleep. Apparently, if you don't sleep through the night for like 9 years, your parent becomes obsessed with how many hours of shut-eye you get a night. She'll be 30, and her dad will call her every morning to ask how she slept.

"I mean, yeah, I did, slept like a baby." Ellie tries to go for convincing even as she's stifling a yawn and realizing there will be no breakfast today.

Her dad narrows his eyes and studies her briefly but lets it go. He takes his coffee to the kitchen table and looks through some papers he left there last night.

Ellie slumps against the counter, thinking about the before time. Before Sarah went to college, they had breakfast together every morning. The before time was only 3 weeks ago, but it seems much longer than that. Ellie's not sure how to broach this with her dad, so she flings open the nearest cabinet one more time. She spies something on the top shelf, which might be a granola bar. She squints and jumps once but still can't see the item well enough to determine if it's edible. She tries again, with no luck, damn her short legs. She glances back. Her dad appears to be busy with his boring looking papers, so she pushes herself onto the countertop, grabs the cabinet door to steady herself, and reaches for the mystery item.

"Hey." Her dad's raised voice startles her, and she almost loses her balance, holding tighter to the cabinet door to steady herself. "Nuh-uh, down."

Before Ellie can open her mouth to argue, her dad is lifting her off the counter, and her feet are back on the ground. She whirls around to face him, hands on her hips.

"Seriously?" They both exclaim at the same time. If she wasn't hungry and crabby from not sleeping well, she'd laugh and jinx him, but she's not in the mood. Dad has his hands on his hips, and they face off in the middle of their kitchen. Flecks of purple, blue, and green flicker across the counter and Ellie's face.

"You could have fallen and hurt yourself."

Not if you hadn't startled me, Ellie thinks to herself, but she keeps her mouth shut; it's a losing battle arguing with her dad when he thinks her safety is at risk.

"What have I told you about pulling on the cabinet doors?" He continues, "You could pull them off their hinges or even pull the cabinets off the wall completely."

Ellie can't help it and rolls her eyes; she's heard this lecture before.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Ellie, it happens. People have died."

Okay, now he's just being dramatic.

"You have a step stool," he looks around the kitchen pointedly, "somewhere—"

The step stool is currently in her bedroom. She's been replacing some of the glow-in-the-dark stars on her wall and using the kitchen step stool to reach the ones higher up on the wall.

(She's been standing on her dresser to get the ones on her ceiling, but her dad doesn't need to know that.)

"Use the step stool if you need to reach the cabinets," her dad explains to her, as if she were four.

"Ugh, this is your fault!" Ellie exclaims, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. She's too hungry to be lectured at 7:45 on a Wednesday morning.

"My fault?" Her dad repeats. He has the audacity to look genuinely confused by her statement.

"You--" She points her finger at him, something he generally does not appreciate, and he raises his eyebrows to let her know she's now on thin ice. Ellie does not care and pushes on, "You gave me the stupid short gene. "You," she points again, "have these cool Chilean genes, but all you gave me was the short one." Now he looks amused, despite the finger pointing, which makes her even madder. "You don't even have it yourself; you and Uncle Tommy are like fucking towers. For me, though, you passed on some…" she flails her arms around, trying to remember the tiny bit of genetics they'd studied last year in science, "dormant short gene roaming around in your DNA. That was a real dick move, man, and now" she gestures wildly toward the still open cabinet, "I can't see the top shelf, and there might be a granola bar up there I can eat for breakfast. But I'll never know because of the short genes you gave me and…and because of your draconian no climbing on the counter rule!"

She sets her jaw and glares at her dad, waiting for him to either defend his act of genetic withholding or punish her for having an attitude first thing in the morning.

However, her dad's mouth twitches like he's trying not to laugh, which fully enrages her.

"You done?" He asks, and Ellie suddenly feels like a toddler who threw a tantrum, which is bullshit. He's the one who can't keep food in the house. "Yeah, I'm done, and I guess I'll go to school hungry," she snaps, opening the fridge and blatantly grabbing a can of Dr. Pepper, which she is absolutely not supposed to drink for breakfast. This knocks that stupid half-smile off her dad's face.

"Ellie, c'mon. No soda for breakfast." Now he finally looks concerned, "I didn't realize we were out of stuff. I'll find you something for you to eat, baby."

Ellie flounces past him and grabs her backpack. "Well, you have about three minutes before my bus comes, and we don't have anything. Remember, we're out of food? That's why we went out to dinner last night."

"Damn it," her dad groans, rubbing his hands over his face. "I forgot, and you didn't…"

"No, you didn't ask me to. You just said we'd put in a grocery order when we got home. Then we came home—"Ellie starts to say, we came home and watched TV, but it was her idea to put on a show, and once they were on the couch, the grocery order was long forgotten.

"- we came home and forgot." She finishes.

Her dad sets his coffee down and starts looking for his keys, "Well, I'll drive you to school and get you something on the—shit." His head falls back, and he sighs, "I have to be at the Pflugerville site at 9 to meet with the foundation guys if I take you to school first…"

"You'll be late." Ellie finishes, "It's fine." She continues flatly, "My bus is almost here, and if you drive me and we stop for food, I'll probably be late, and Mr. Lowell is a real dick about tardies, even if you have a parent's note." She gives the Dr. Pepper a little shake, "Breakfast."

"Run over to Bill and Franks. I'm sure they have something you can take with you." Her dad starts looking desperate and guilty, and Ellie almost feels bad. Almost.

"I hear my bus. Bye." Ellie brushes past him to leave, ignoring the arm he puts out for her. He follows her to the door and asks, "Do you at least have money for lunch?" He starts searching for the apps on his phone; "I can add more money if you—"

"Sarah reloaded it last week," Ellie calls without turning around. She knows that's the wrong thing to say, and it will just piss him off, but right now, she really doesn't care. Nothing has felt right recently; part of her just wants to scream at someone.

She hears her dad sigh, and Ellie knows that he's pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Ellie, I told you to stop going to your sister with stuff like that. I will take care of it."

Ellie turns and walks backward towards the bus stop, "I didn't ask her to; she just did it."

This is partially true. Ellie had been Face Timing with Sarah and mentioned that she needed to ask their dad to reload her lunch account. Thirty seconds later, Sarah said it was done; she'd logged in and taken care of it. It's not Ellie's fault that Sarah is a freak who likes completing small tasks. "It's an easy check on the to-do list," she always says, "a nice little dopamine rush." Sarah is studying to be a psychologist (psychiatrist? therapist?). When she says things like that, Ellie thinks her first patient should be herself.

Dad rolls his eyes, "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Can you bitch at me later?" Ellie yells louder than necessary and points up the street, "My bus is here?"

She sees her dad's face flash with anger for a second because she yelled a cuss word outside where the neighbors can hear. She waits for him to yell at her for yelling, but the only thing he hates as much as Ellie cussing where the neighbors can hear is arguing where the neighbors can hear. He doesn't respond, and Ellie can tell it's killing him. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, leans against the door frame, and nods, but he doesn't go inside until he sees Ellie get on the bus.

Ellie slumps into a seat on the bus, relieved that she managed to get a row to herself, and stares out the window, sipping her Dr. Pepper and not enjoying it as much as she thought she would. The liquid feels extra syrupy in her mouth and sits heavy in her stomach. Maybe her dad is right about sodas for breakfast. She starts feeling guilty about arguing with him that morning. They've argued at least one morning a week since Sarah left. Three the week she was on her period, and she's pretty sure he purposely overslept the fourth morning to avoid her. It wasn't supposed to be like this; they'd had a plan for filling some of the voids left by Sarah. They'd each pick up a few things, and everything would work out. That worked okay for a few days, but school started, and life picked up and got busy, and they fell back into some habits.

Ellie is trying, and her dad is trying, but the Sarah-shaped hole in their house seems too large and all encompassing to even start to fill. Every day it feels like Ellie finds another Sarah void, as she has started referring to them.

(She called them Sarah holes at first, but that sounded weird.)

Ellie didn't sleep well last night and hasn't slept well in the three weeks since Sarah has been gone. When she wakes up, the house feels strangely large and empty. It's not like Sarah was up all night, making noise, but simply knowing she was there made the house feel full, made their family feel complete. Now, Ellie thinks their family feels like a puzzle with a missing piece, not like a small piece in a corner, but like a large center piece that distorts the whole image.

She knows her dad feels the same way; he's been in a fog like Ellie has, and many days, he looks like he's listening for something that isn't there.

They never discuss it, but Ellie recognizes that look and feels the same way; that if she can just listen close enough, she'll hear Sarah in the house. She'll hear her light, quick footsteps in the hall or on the stairs, rushing from place to place, always having a schedule to keep. If Ellie can be still enough, she'll hear Sarah typing on her laptop or hear the thump of Sarah's foot hitting the soccer ball as she practices for her next game. If she can focus hard enough, she'll smell Sarah's nail polish or coconut lotion when she goes upstairs. When that happens, when Ellie is listening as hard as she can and only hears deafening silence, she reminds herself that her sister isn't dead; she's very much alive, and she whips out her phone and sends Sarah a text to prove it to herself. Sometimes, she sends her a joke or a piece of school or neighborhood gossip. Usually, she just sends an emoji or GIF; Sarah always responds quickly, and for a few moments, some of the emptiness around Ellie fills back up, and the Sarah void seems more manageable.

She doesn't think her dad does that, though, or not as much; he doesn't respond much in the family group chat either, only when something is directed to him, and it's always short and to the point. He's been determined not to bother Sarah too much, to let her live her life and get settled at school. He doesn't want to be a helicopter parent, needing to be in every aspect of her business, and he doesn't want her to worry about them.

So, when their dad gets that look like he's straining to hear something that isn't there or looks like he's lost something, he doesn't send a message or reach out to Sarah. Instead, he goes to his office or finds some work to do in their yard or in Bill and Frank's yard. Sure, their yards have never looked better, but Ellie's been in enough therapy over the last five years to know this isn't really the best way for him to deal with his feelings.

Sometimes, Ellie wishes they could talk about it and try to fill some of the emptiness together. For now, they're each trying to fill their own Sarah void with whatever they can find, and the voids just seem to be getting bigger.

It's not like her dad is ignoring her; it's pretty much business as usual; he goes to work, and she goes to school. He's still home no later than six, and they have dinner together; they eat it in front of the TV a little more than they used to, but still together. On Fridays, he picks her up from school, and they run errands or do something fun before having dinner with Tommy and Maria. On weekends, if she doesn't have something scheduled with her friends or a school project, they hang out together, and on Sundays, they have a family dinner with Bill and Frank.

They watch movies or a little TV together most nights. Ellie still gets to snuggle into her spot with her head on her dad's chest, like she's done for as long as she can remember, but the Sarah void is there, too. Her dad doesn't seem to know what to do with the space on his left side, Sarah's side. The first few nights, he shifted around all evening, putting pillows under his left arm and finally moving so that his left side was pressed into the arm of the couch. "Sorry, kiddo," he said, laying his cheek against the top of her head and pulling her closer after the third time he'd made them shift, "the couch feels a little bigger, that's all."

But some days, it feels like they do all those things on autopilot, and the Sarah void hangs over them.

Mornings may be the worst, though. Ellie's still not used to waking up, and the sound of Sarah moving around not being the first thing she hears.

She and Sarah spent exactly one year attending the same school at the same time, and that was Ellie's kindergarten year; Sarah was in 5th grade. After that, Sarah was always at a different school with a different start time, but she was almost always the first one up in the morning. Waking up and not hearing the shower or her music or noise in the kitchen is unsettling.

Her dad probably hates it too, probably hates the first thing he hears is either the Adler's dog Mercy barking at squirrels or Ellie tripping over all the crap on her bedroom floor looking for clean clothes to wear. Then he goes into the kitchen, and there's no freshly brewed coffee, no breakfast, no Sarah. Just Ellie climbing on counters and bitching about the lack of food options. No wonder tempers have been running high recently.

As if she senses Ellie's thoughts, her phone lights up with a Facetime from Sarah. They're not allowed to have phones out at school, but the bus is a free-for-all, so she answers.

"Good morning!" Sarah chirps. It looks like she's walking to class, which would make sense. She tends to call or Facetime when she's walking across campus, especially in the mornings. Ellie almost cries when she sees her sister on the screen, fresh-faced and smiling, even though she knows it must feel like a swamp in Houston right now. She looks tired, if Ellie really thinks about it; even after her morning skincare routine, Ellie can see a hint of bags under her eyes, and she seems to be forcing some cheer into her voice.

Ellie's so happy to see her face and hear her voice that she pushes all that aside.

"Hey." Ellie responds, hoping her voice doesn't sound as thick as it feels as she tries to blink back tears. However, her sister can read her like a book, and her tone changes immediately.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Ellie wants to say no, she's not. She can't sleep without her sister in her room at the end of the hall. They didn't have any breakfast, and she argued with their dad. She wants to tell Sarah that she's sorry for not appreciating how much she did for them and that their family isn't right without her. But her dad says it's unfair to make Sarah feel bad about living her own life, that she's already spent way too many years worrying about things she shouldn't have had to, so Ellie forces a smile and sips her drink. "Yup, all good. I just have to ride the bus today." She pulls a face, hoping that explanation will be enough to get Sarah off her back.

"Is that a soda? How did you swing a breakfast soda?"

"Wasn't much else," Ellie says without thinking. As soon as the words leave her mouth, she regrets them, and her sister looks doubtful.

"Seriously? There was nothing else?"

"Well, we kind of ran out of stuff and forgot to put in a grocery order, so…no, there wasn't anything else." She sees her sister's face go from confused to pissed and tries to cover, "But it's fine, we'll go shopping tonight, probably, and it's just one day. Well, two, we didn't have anything for dinner last night, so we went out to eat, but I like going out to eat, so…" Sarah shakes her head in disbelief, "Do you at least have lunch money?" "YES. Remember, you filled my lunch account last week. I'm fine. You don't have to call Dad--"

"I'm calling Dad."

Oh, for fucks sake. "Nooo, no, no, don't call Dad!"

"If he needs me to put in a grocery order for delivery, he just needs to ask. He hardly talks to me. I'll call you later."

"Please, Sarah, don't—" Ellie begs, but it's too late; her sister has ended the call and probably has their dad on the phone to chew him out. Ellie flops her head against the seat, fucking great.

Ten minutes later, just as she's stepping off the bus at school, her phone rings again; this time, it's her dad. Fuuuuuck, this won't be good. She almost doesn't answer; they're not supposed to have their phones out or even turned on at school; if you're caught, they take your phone, and your parents have to come get it from the office and pay $15. Ellie's been caught three times, but she was texting her dad all three times, so he couldn't be mad at Ellie, even if he was mad about paying the $15.

Outside the building, before the first bell rings, is a bit of a grey area, so Ellie walks as far away from the building as she can get without the campus security officer thinking she's trying to sneak away and answers.

"He—"

"How many times do I have to tell you to STOP running to your sister anytime something goes wrong." Fuck, her dad is pissed. He's not all the way to asshole voice, but he's close, probably the closest he's ever been with Ellie.

"No, but—"

"Because then she calls me and chews me out, and I don't love having an 18-year-old tell me I'm not taking care of you."

Ellie feels hot tears stinging her eyes, she hates when her dad is mad at her, and he isn't very often, so it sucks even more when he is.

"You have a problem, young lady; you talk to me. I'm your parent; going behind my back to Sarah is underhanded—"

"I didn't!" Ellie finally yells. "She called me. I'm sorry that I had a conversation with my sister and answered her questions. Why don't you give me a fucking script next time of what I'm allowed to say."

Her voice has gotten louder and started shaking. She notices a parent volunteer, and a couple of students glance at her. Great, she's making a scene. This will get around the 8th grade.

"I didn't mean—" Despite her best efforts, her voice breaks, and a small sob escapes before she can get her hand up to her mouth to stifle it. She practically hears her dad deflate over the phone; daughter tears are his kryptonite.

"Ellie—" Her Dad sighs, his voice much softer.

Ellie shakes her head and straightens her shoulders, "The bell is about to ring, and Officer Jenkins is eying me, so I have to go. You can tell me everything I'm doing wrong tonight in person, and I'm sure you'll have a whole list by then."

"El—"

Ellie ends the call, turns off the phone, and drops it in her backpack. She wipes her eyes with the heels of her palm, but she still has to stop by the bathroom to wash her face and gets to first period late. Mr. Lowell is, as expected, a real dick about it.

Her morning classes crawl by, and she fights off tears all morning, thinking about the new asshole her dad will probably rip her tonight. This didn't happen when Sarah still lived at home. No, it did sometimes, but it feels so much worse now.

At lunch, she discreetly turns her phone back on for just a second to try and get at least an idea of what she is in for tonight and sees a series of texts from her dad.

I'm sorry I yelled at you.

I'm leaving work early to go to HEB.

I'll be home when you get off the bus.

We'll fix this.

Some of the dread that had settled in her chest loosens after she sees her dad's text, but she's still dragging her feet when she gets off the bus and sees her dad's truck in the driveway.

Dad is in the kitchen, still unloading grocery bags, and a bowl of Chef Boyardee ravioli is on the table. "I made your favorite snack!" He looks so earnest that Ellie can't help but smile.

She does love Chef Boyardee, but they only get it sometimes. Bill goes on rants about canned food and that it's pumped full of chemicals. Her dad laughs it off to his face but then avoids buying it for a while after one of Bill's lectures.

Sometimes, Ellie casually mentions having canned ravioli around Bill just to watch him puff up and rant. After he yells about processed foods and the government, he makes her homemade ravioli, which is arguably better.

"Are you bribing me?" she asks, crossing her arms.

"Is it working?" Her dad asks, hopefully, and she responds by going over and wrapping her arms around him. He puts his arms around her, tugging her into a tight hug. Ellie didn't realize how much she needed a hug until then. It's one of her dad's really good hugs, too; one hand rests on the back of her head and the other across her back, his chin hooked over the top of her head. This may be the only good thing about the short gene; she still fits under her dad's chin, where she feels safe and loved.

Her dad gives the best hugs in the world, and they are all reserved for her and Sarah. Well, sometimes Uncle Tommy, but not too often. They're more likely to swap loving shoulder punches because brothers are weird.

She suddenly remembers a conversation with Sarah when she was home for Labor Day. When Ellie asked what she missed from home, her first answer was Dad hugs.

"Sometimes, you just…you just need a dad hug." Sarah said, "I miss those so much."

Sarah looked so sad that when Ellie came downstairs later and saw her tucked up next to their dad, she fought the urge to insert herself for some cuddles of her own and went back upstairs for a little while to let Sarah get her dad hugs. Given how they both had glassy eyes when she did come down, she figured they needed a moment.

She thinks about that now, safe from the confines of her dad's arms. Sarah could probably use a hug right now after all the morning drama. She got yelled at, too, but she's three hours away. So, when her dad starts to pull away, Ellie tugs him back, burrows a little deeper, and thinks, this one's for you, Sarah. She almost says that out loud, but she's pretty sure if her dad heard her, he would literally die of guilt, and that's not ideal.

"I'm sorry," her dad says against the top of her head, "I didn't get up as early as I wanted, and I already felt bad, and then I realized we didn't have anything for you to eat and felt worse. Then, Sarah called me and… well, you know how she can get." Ellie smiles a little, imagining the call between her dad and sister, "I took that out on you, and I shouldn't have." Dad sighs, "I laid into Sarah too. I called her earlier to apologize, but it hung over me all day.

Honestly, Ellie feels worse for her dad than for Sarah. Her dad can get mad and lose his temper, pull out a toned-down version of his asshole voice here and there, but it's rare.

Ellie finds it amusing that her dad never yelled at them when they were loud, obnoxious little kids unless they were in danger. Tiny babies who didn't sleep, toddlers throwing tantrums, using his body as a jungle gym, and waking him up at 2am to discuss where snow comes from never fazed him. Teenagers who mouth off are more of his Achilles heel, and he's been dealing with that for at least 5 years now, maybe 7; Sarah was always advanced.

Dad feels guilty when things get heated, and he yells at them. He apologizes immediately and takes the blame even if it's not entirely his fault. "I'm the adult," he always says, "I should be able to deal with my kids without yelling."

Sarah, on the other hand, is the oldest daughter who grew up without a mother but felt like she was Ellie's since the age of five. She realized at age ten that if she wanted something done right, she had to do it herself, and at age twelve, she became her dad's right hand, whether he liked it or not. Sarah loves and respects their dad but sees his flaws more clearly than Ellie does. She will get in his face and call him on them anytime she feels it's warranted. Ellie has seen Sarah and their dad get into it a couple times; it's never pretty. Her dad usually apologizes first.

(The most baller thing Ellie has ever seen was when their dad tried using "Do you want to try that again" on Sarah in the middle of a pretty heated argument about…something. Sarah looked shocked and a little offended and replied, "No. That is exactly what I meant to say.” Their dad's face turned purple, and he stormed out, yelling, "You and your smart mouth can spend some time in your room." He then spent the next 2 hours rage mowing their lawn, the Adler's yard, and Bill and Frank's yard. Ellie really wishes she had that on video.)

"It's okay," Ellie says, finally pulling away. I was in a bad mood, too, and I was kind of a jerk about our lack of food options. I'm kind of the one that suggested watching the storm chaser show last night and not putting in a grocery order."

"No." Her dad says firmly, "You're the kid; the least you should expect is food. That is number one on the parenting checklist. I screwed up there. It won't happen again."

Her dad smiles at her and puts his arm out for her, "C'mon, grab your snack and a paper towel; you can hang out in the office with me while I finish some work."

Ellie agrees and spends the next hour curled up in the big leather chair in the office, doing her English reading and studying her Spanish flashcards.

Later that night, after dinner, when they're watching TV, Ellie starts thinking about the Sarah voids and if they can be filled. Mornings are probably the biggest issue right now. Whether she realized it or not, Sarah had been the morning manager. Besides breakfast and coffee, she'd gotten Ellie dressed for years. They used to have a whole Sunday night thing; they'd choose Ellie's clothes for the week and lay them out so that it was one less thing for their dad to worry about as he struggled to get himself ready for the day.

Obviously, Ellie has been getting herself dressed on her own for years now, but this morning, she got downstairs late because she couldn't find anything clean to wear. She's not always great with laundry.

Technically, she's in charge of her own laundry and has been for several years now.

(The accusation that she got herself out of laundry duty for an extra year by purposefully falling headfirst into the top-loading washing machine and breaking her nose as she tried to pull clothes out when she was ten is unwarranted, unfounded, and honestly insulting. That doesn't mean it's not a little true…)

Even after sympathy for the busted nose faded and she was left in charge of her clothes, Sarah or her dad would usually just toss her stuff in with theirs. Sarah did because she didn't trust Ellie to not ruin her clothes by throwing them all in one large wash. Her dad did and still does sometimes because he likes to run a full load. Some about not wasting water or electricity or…something.

Two weeks ago, she and her dad had a massive fight on a Monday morning because her gym clothes hadn't been washed over the weekend.

Ellie had thought he had done that with her gym clothes over the weekend. He had not, and a meltdown commenced. Ellie finally found some old gym clothes from the previous year, but she missed her bus, and then her dad ended up late for a meeting after he had to drop her off at school.

The new rule is to assume that no one will do your laundry. But yesterday, she kind of assumed her dad had…nope.

That night, before she goes to bed, Ellie picks through her clothes and finds a shirt (one of Sarah's old soccer jerseys) and a cleanish pair of jeans. She places them on her old rocker with underwear and socks and sets her shoes by the door.

She sets her alarm for a few minutes earlier than usual, and the next morning, instead of hitting snooze three times, she slips downstairs and turns on the coffee maker. She opens the fridge and looks over the groceries her dad bought the previous day. There are eggs, but she's not very good at making them. They should be easy, but they always end up rubbery or burnt when she makes them. She moves on to the cabinets; there's pancake mix; her dad doesn't love pancakes, waffles involve getting the clunky old waffle iron out, and French toast kind of makes a mess; it's more of a weekend breakfast.

So, it looks like it will be a cereal morning, not what Ellie was hoping for, but maybe she can liven it up with…she spins around…toast. She spies a fresh loaf of bread on the counter. The good bread from the bakery section, not the regular bread aisle stuff. Someone was feeling guilty, she thinks.

(Neither is as good as Bill's homemade bread, but he and Frank were gone for a few days last week, and he hasn't had a chance to make bread yet. Ellie makes a mental note to check in with him on that. Bread day is the best day to hang out next door.)

Ellie pauses to pull out the little Bluetooth speaker they keep downstairs. She pulls up her Spotify account and scrolls through her playlists, trying to figure out what would be considered morning music before saying fuck it and pulling up one of Sarah's morning playlists.

It's not necessarily Ellie's first choice for a morning soundtrack, but as the first song plays, she thinks of Sarah, and soon she's humming along.

She takes a video of the coffee pot brewing while The Last Great American Dynasty plays in the background.

Preparing to have a wonderful time ruining everything, she captions the video before sending it to Sarah.

Sarah responds immediately with a heart and dare you to dye the Anderson's poodle key lime green.

Ellie promises to get on that after school and then goes to see what her cereal options are.

"No shit," she says out loud when she sees a box of Cocoa Puffs, real Cocoa Puffs, not the store brand ones, sitting next to their usual Cheerios and wheat crap her dad buys and hopes she'll eat. Ellie doesn't think he's ever bought any chocolate cereal without her standing next to him, begging or slipping them in the basket, hoping he doesn't notice. He must have really been feeling guilty; she knows he felt terrible that he made her cry, but for Cocoa Puff's guilt, Sarah must have been even more upset than she thought.

She grabs the box and fills a bowl for herself, placing the wheat flake things at her dad's spot at the table. He wants them to eat dry whole wheat cereal? He can go first. She drops a couple of slices of bread in the toaster and pulls out the butter and a jar of Bill's homemade strawberry preserves. He'd taken her and Sarah to a farm in Marble Falls earlier that year to pick strawberries, and then they'd spent a whole day helping him make preserves, jams, and this amazing strawberry sauce they've been using on pancakes and ice cream. The memory makes her smile, and she thinks it will make her dad happy as well.

When her dad comes down a few minutes, the table is set for breakfast, and his coffee is brewed. She even remembers orange juice for them both; Sarah always preaches about getting enough Vitamin C.

He looks genuinely surprised and touched when he sees what she's been working on. "What have you been up to this morning?" he asks, putting his arm around her shoulder and kissing her forehead. "You didn't have to do all this," he says.

"I know," Ellie says, "but I wanted to." She almost tells him that she misses Sarah in the mornings, and she knows that he does, too, and this is her way of trying to fill that void. Maybe they can find more ways to fill the Sarah voids together, but she chickens out. It's getting late, and she doesn't know if she has it in her for a heart-to-heart before breakfast.

The next morning, when Ellie comes down, she's surprised that her dad has beaten her to the kitchen. He has the coffee brewed, eggs and bacon on the stove, and he's playing some old 90s country on the speaker—George Strait, Ellie thinks. It sounds like what her dad plays on his guitar, and it's kind of nice for a Friday morning.

Her dad lights up when he sees her, "figured maybe we can take turns."

"Sounds good," Ellie agrees, "I'll pour the orange juice."

The next couple of weeks go quickly; her dad is much better about making sure they have groceries, and Ellie installs the grocery app on her phone so she can go in and mark stuff that she needs. Then, when it's time, her dad will either put in an order for pick up or just go himself and get everything they've added to the list all week. Sure, a couple times, the grocery run was done at 9 pm when they realized they were out of everything, but it got done.

They also make more of an effort to have breakfast together after realizing the day goes better when they do. They take turns making it and eat more cereal than when Sarah was home, but they both like cereal, so it's okay.

The school year picks up for Ellie, and work picks up a lot for her dad. That's when scheduling snafus start to arise. Sarah was good at putting reminders around the house on sticky notes so they couldn't miss. She'd pump Ellie for details of her choir rehearsals, art fairs, and after-school clubs and add them to her reminders. There are no more sticky notes around, and Ellie and her dad aren't always the best at updating the calendar on the fridge.

They don't realize how bad it's gotten until her dad misses back-to-school night for the first time in 13 years. There's some finger-pointing around whose fault that is. It might be at her school, but Ellie didn't mark it on the calendar because she's not the one attending. If her dad wants to know what's going on at school, he should check his personal email more than once a month; they sent like four reminders leading up to back-to-school night. Alternatively, her dad thinks she could have been more helpful in reminding him to check his email if she knew that notices were being sent. Ellie tells him that it's his sixth year having a kid at that middle school and his second time having an eighth grader, and there really isn't anything new for him to learn.

Still, he emails all her teachers, apologizing and assuring them he's an engaged parent and they should tell him if Ellie is having any issues. It seems like a bit of overkill to Ellie, but sure, whatever makes him feel better.

Her dad also starts having to work late more than usual. It's mostly fine; he's home by 7 every night, but some nights after dinner, he works in his office until late while Ellie watches TV alone. He skips his Friday afternoon with Ellie one week, and that sucks. They still went to dinner, and she used his guilt to talk her way into dessert at the restaurant and then ice cream when they got home, so the evening was salvaged.

Then, one night in mid-October, she gets a text from her dad reminding her that he'll be home late because he has a client dinner.

Client dinners are a new thing that started in the last year. Her dad has been working on getting some bigger projects for his company, but with that comes clients who are spending more money, and apparently, that means they like to discuss the project over a nice dinner, not in an office during regular work hours. He usually gets away with having Uncle Tommy take care of client dinners. Uncle Tommy is more of a people person who doesn't dread making small talk over drinks. He can take Maria, who impresses and intimidates people with her law degree and job in the DA's office.

Sometimes, though, the client only wants to talk to the owner, so her dad has to suck it up and smile his way through dinner.

He had warned her that he would be home later than usual, 8 at the earliest, but it would most likely be later. The guy is driving up from San Antonio and is a talker, according to her dad. He'll take 2 hours to talk about everything under the sun before he finally gets around to business. Dad asks several times if she wants to go to Bill and Franks for the evening; she's never been home alone that late. Ellie refuses: this is her first opportunity to stay by herself late, and she wants to prove she can.

Ellie started coming home alone in 6th grade, but it was only for a short time each day; Sarah was usually close behind. This was after her dad started making a point to be home earlier, so if Sarah had something after school, then her dad was either home before Ellie, handling paperwork, or he was home by 5:30. Any later and she had to go next door until someone else got home.

He loosened up a little last year, and she was home by herself a couple of times until around 6:30, but that was the absolute latest before either her dad or Sarah got home.

This has never seemed particularly fair to Ellie. Sarah was left alone with Ellie starting at twelve, and no one seemed to bat an eye. Ellie has accepted that her already overprotective father is even more protective of her because she's the baby, but she's desperate to prove that she's just as capable as Sarah was at her age.

So that week, whenever her dad mentions going next door while he's at his dinner, Ellie shuts him down and insists that she will be fine. She imagines herself taking up the whole couch, with all the blankets surrounding her, while she watches her favorite shows in peace and eats junk.

That was Tuesday; now it's Thursday, after 8 pm, and she's heard very little from her dad. He texted her around 7:30, telling her that his dinner started much later than planned due to traffic between San Antonio and Austin. He will be home later than expected. She can still go to Bill and Franks if she wants.

Ellie is tempted. She's been home by herself since about 4:30 and has already watched TV, done most of her homework, and made a PB&J she hasn't felt like eating yet. It's dark, and she's getting antsy. Does their house always make such weird noises? Has it always felt this big and empty? This is a different sort of emptiness than the Sarah voids. This is a cold, echo-y emptiness. This is an emptiness that makes her feel very small and alone.

She considers calling Sarah but doesn't want her sister to worry and call their dad. She also briefly considers giving in and going over to Bill and Franks for the rest of the night.

She peeks out the kitchen window and sees the light in their TV room. She could go over now if she wanted. She'll be handed a cookie and a mug of hot chocolate and spend the evening watching a Housewives show with Frank. It's a nice thought that almost has her out the door, but her stubbornness and the urge to prove herself wins out over the little voice saying, "I'm scared."

She settles on the couch and mindlessly scrolls through the streaming apps, but nothing looks interesting. Suddenly, she can't remember what shows she was so excited to watch in peace. Her dad will watch almost anything with her, even the animated Star Wars shows, and she knows he doesn't enjoy those very much.

What had she done the last time her dad had a client dinner? He doesn't have them that often, but it feels like there was one recently. Ellie remembers it had been over the summer; it came up a little last minute after Sarah had made plans for the night. But instead of pushing her off on Bill and Frank, Sarah had talked their dad into letting Ellie tag along with her for the evening. It was such a fun night.

After dinner, they met up with a few of Sarah's friends at Mozart's coffee house on the lake. It's popular with UT students who like to study on the sprawling tree-covered patio and tourists who think it's a novelty to drink coffee while sitting by a lake. Sarah's friend Kinsey had been talking with some college guy who plays in a band that was playing at Mozart's that night. Everyone was going for moral support while she made eyes at this guy and then ran off to make out with him during set breaks. Ellie didn't even realize this was a service she might have to offer her friends someday, and she's glad she got a heads up; now she can figure out how to get out of it.

Sarah got her a pastry and an iced coffee drink that didn't taste like coffee but like a chocolate milkshake, and they sat out under the large oak trees late into the evening. Ellie knew most of Sarah's friends; they'd all hung out at their house plenty over the years. They're all nice to her and give all sorts of advice about high school, even though she has one more year in middle school. They advised her on teachers to avoid, how to get away with having her phone out, and the best routes for sneaking off campus. Sarah told her she better not be sneaking off campus. Killjoy.

It was after 10 when they finally pulled Kinsey off the guitarist's face and went to get late-night pancakes. That's when her dad started texting, asking why Sarah had Ellie out so late. Sarah held him off long enough to eat, and then they raced home, trying to devise a plan of attack to avoid a lecture or, worse, grounding. Ellie took the lead as the baby and the one least likely to get punished.

She went inside first, and her dad was waiting, still in his work clothes, as if he thought he might have to go find them and drag them home. Ellie quickly went into the script they had devised, throwing her arms around their dad and excitedly telling him what a great night she had with her sister. Her big sister, who's leaving for college soon, just as Ellie is finally old enough to go out with her. "We haven't gotten to hang out like this a lot; time just worked against us," Ellie lamented, giving what she hoped was her most earnest performance, "thank you, Dad, for recognizing that and letting me go."

She may have gone a hair too hard there at the end. Her dad narrowed his eyes at her slightly, but it softened him enough that when Sarah strolled inside a minute later, he didn't say anything, just gave her an unimpressed look over Ellie's head and told her that in the future, curfew is 10pm when Ellie is out with her. Realizing she was avoiding punishment, Sarah stood on her tiptoes and kissed her dad on the cheek, "It's fine, I got baby home in one piece, and she had a great time."

(Ellie almost turned on her sister for the baby remark. It confirmed that her dad and sister call her baby when she's not around, and she does not like that at all, but she was full of sugar and the rush of a parent-free night, so she graciously let it go.)

"You were so good!" Sarah complimented Ellie after they'd made it upstairs and were hanging out in Sarah's room. Ellie had flushed with pride, and they'd spent the next couple hours watching Grey's Anatomy on Sarah's laptop until they fell asleep.

Tonight, though, her dad is at dinner, Sarah is in Houston, and Ellie feels more alone than ever.

She texts with her friend Sophie for a while but has to refrain from mentioning that she's nervous about being home alone. Sophie's mom, Ms. Tracey, is one of her dad's best friends, so there's always a chance it gets back to him.

Her friend Harper texts her about the science homework, and so does her friend Liam; she's kind of the go-to for science homework questions. She should shower, but she suddenly feels weird about being in the shower in an empty house; that seems too much like the start of a horror movie.

Mostly, she wonders when her dad will get home. Should she text him? Just a casual, what's up? Will he be able to sense her fear from a restaurant across town and immediately come home, possibly jeopardizing a job that will make him a lot of money?

Yes. He will absolutely do that. Ellie doesn't text him.

She wanders the house, trying to figure out where to settle. She peeks into Sarah's room and considers curling up there, but it looks too lonely. Too much of her sister is missing from that room for it to be comforting. It feels more like a Sarah shell.

Instead, she finds refuge in the safest place she can think of, her dad's room. She snags one of his sweatshirts off the dresser, tugs it on, and curls up on his bed. The sweatshirt is oversized and soft and smells like her dad; like coffee and fabric softener and the woodsy shampoo/conditioner/body wash combo he uses. She imagines he's there with her for a second, tugging her ponytail and making her read out loud when she has trouble focusing on her required reading.

She looks at her phone for the hundredth time; it's 8:45. He's probably on his way home; there's no way he lets her stay home alone past 9. She opens the find my friends feature and… can't see her dad… which is weird.

The deal is they all keep their location tracking on at all times, even though Sarah gets a little leeway with that now that she's in college. But suddenly, she can't see her dad; Sarah has hers turned on tonight; she's in her dorm room, but where is her dad? Why would he turn off his location? Is he not at a client dinner? Where else would he be? Where could he be that he didn't want Ellie to know?

Ellie racks her brain. He wouldn't drive to Houston to see Sarah without her, and she can't imagine where else he'd be on a Thursday night.

Suddenly, it hits her; what if he's on a date? Ellie can't remember the last time her dad went on a date. He was supposed to on one once when she was 10, but then he and Sarah had a huge fight, and Sarah walked out and then got in a car accident. Her dad has never mentioned dating anyone since then.

Did he suddenly decide to start going on dates? Is this a mid-life crisis? He just turned 40, and he sent his oldest kid to college. Maybe he's decided it's time to go crazy. She'd asked him if he was having a midlife crisis a couple weeks ago when she came home and found him whittling or some shit like that with a piece of wood. He'd snorted and said, he's only 40, he's not old enough for a midlife crisis. Ellie then requested that when he does have a midlife crisis, please have a buy a convertible crisis, not a have sex with a 25-year-old crisis like her friend Harper's dad did. Her dad nearly choked on his coffee, and after he was breathing normally again, he promised to keep that in mind.

(He also said Harper has to start coming to their house when they hang out.)

Ellie tries to imagine her dad on a date with a woman, and she makes herself nauseous. He's not a dating guy; he's her and Sarah's dad.

She knows that women find him attractive; she has since she was 5. Several moms at the kindergarten open house got very chatty with her dad. One of them kept touching her dad's arm. While he was holding Ellie. Ellie dumped her juice on her and solved that problem.

(It helped earn her the nickname Jellie Ellie, which Ellie thinks is bullshit. When Ellie was four, her dad went on a date, and before he left, Sarah talked Ellie into letting her aim the hair dryer at her forehead for a whole minute. She then told her dad that Ellie was dying of a fever and he shouldn't leave. He saw through it and went anyway, but he did come home early. But no one calls Sarah Possessive Sarah or anything.)

When her dad missed back-to-school night, her social studies teacher gushed about how thoughtful his email was and asked her to tell him he could call her with any questions or concerns. She'll always make time for an in-person meeting with him at whatever time fits his schedule. Sure, Ms. Hanson, she'll get right on that.

The worst is a few of Sarah's friends who like to make eyes at him when they're over.

What do they think is going to happen? He's just going to see one of Sarah's teenage friends with braces and too much makeup and be like, yeah, I'm almost 40, have two teenage daughters, and run my own business, but what I really need to do is have sex with a 17-year-old.

Sure, Jan, or more like put your tits away, Jan.

He's not some skeevy dad like on those Lifetime movies Sarah found on one of the streaming channels and likes to watch. He's like a dad…dad. He makes lame dad jokes, wears cargo shorts on the weekend, and gets way too excited about grilling in the summer. She came home last week, and he was watching a World War 2 documentary, so she's pretty sure he has officially hit peak middle-aged dad.

(The documentary was about pilots who dropped bombs on Germany, and it was actually pretty interesting; Ellie watched the last half with him.)

He is a great dad, though; he is the best one Ellie knows.

He doesn't get weird about things like periods. He bought them an extra-large heating pad and knows how to place it on them to get the most relief. He makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches, which always make Ellie feel better when she has cramps, a cold, or on cold, rainy days.

He's not great with hair, but he can get tangles out with minimal pulling and do a passable braid when you're sick and need your hair out of your face. His specialty is ponytails, and he excels at getting them done quickly for squirmy little girls who are desperately trying to get back on the soccer field or the playscape.

Thanks to Sarah's years on the soccer field and Ellie's general Elliness, he easily handles most injuries. He can immediately tell if they need a doctor's visit or if ice and Dad's TLC will suffice. Ellie swears he has magic lips; he uses them to check for a fever with surprising accuracy, and a kiss to any hurt immediately makes it feel better, especially when followed by a popsicle, which he still hands out freely when injuries or tears occur.

He has absolutely no problem toting around a pink or purple sparkle-covered backpack or purse, something Ellie has never made him do, but Sarah has plenty. She did make him hold her dinosaur backpack several times, but that was cool, so she did him a favor.

He wears handmade bracelets of all colors and materials that Ellie and Sarah have gifted him over the years, and they're usually accompanied by stray hair bands he finds around the house.

He sometimes comes across as a little serious and even scary to people who don't know him. He's actually pretty funny, even though Ellie will never tell him this, lest he forget who the real comedian in the family is. He can also be silly when he wants to. He likes pretending they're taking a straight selfie and then throwing bunny ears at the last minute. He also likes to tap them on the shoulder and pretend it wasn't him. It would be super lame except for the way he commits to the bit trying to convince them some random stranger just walked through their kitchen and tapped their shoulder.

He has the best shoulders for putting your head on when you're tired or sad or... just need a place to lay your head.

He plays the guitar and sings well enough to go with it. He's built up quite the playlist of Sarah's and Ellie's favorite songs and plays them whenever they're sick, not feeling well, or just because. Ellie's favorite thing is when he just hangs out with her in her room and plays for her while she draws or works on a Lego set or something. 

He's a good teacher, too; he taught Ellie how to play a couple of years ago.

She doesn't practice as much as she should, but Mrs. Cruz, her Choir teacher told Ellie that if she works on it, she can play in the spring concert, so…she needs to get on that.

They like to joke he's the most vocal feminist in their house. For a while, Sarah refused to let him watch her favorite rom-coms with her because he'd grumble about gender stereotypes corrupting his daughters. "Oh my god," Sarah finally exploded, "just let me watch the pretty movie with pretty people falling in love. I'll brush up on my feminist studies later."

She was less put out when he got all over the school district when Sarah's high school soccer team, which won way more games than the boys' team, was made to use the small fields for practice and given less money for uniforms and equipment.

Oh crap, is her dad actually a total catch? Have she and Sarah inadvertently created not just the world's best girl dad but possibly the best boyfriend or husband?

God damn it. Ellie sits and stews about this for a few minutes. She doesn't think it would be fair for some random woman to just waltz in and take advantage of Sarah and Ellie's hard work.

After a minute of spiraling she forces herself to stop catastrophizing and try to think logically. Her dad is not on a date; he would have told her if he was. There would have been a whole discussion about it. He would have notes he pulled from some parenting website about how Ellie was still his first priority, and they would have talked through her feelings and shit. They can't talk about Sarah being away at school and missing her; that would include his feelings, but her feelings are fair game.

He is definitely not on a date, but if he's not on a date, and maybe he's not at a work dinner, where is he?

She then has a more horrifying thought and finds herself down another spiral; what if he's been in an accident? What if he was on his way home and had a car accident? She feels her heart rate spike again and pulls her dad's hoodie tighter around herself. There are lots of car accidents in Austin. Sarah's mom died in a car accident. She was just driving home from her job at the hospital. She was a nurse who took care of babies, and she was trying to get back to Dad and baby Sarah, and then, bam, she was hit by a drunk driver. She never made it home that night. Her dad just got a call from the hospital, and in one second, they went from a family of three to a family of two.

The only reason Ellie even gets to exist is because her sister's mom died. She thinks about that sometimes, thinks about how Sarah lost her mom and then got stuck with a needy baby sister. What a crappy trade-off.

The hospital called her dad when Sarah's mom died. They also called him when Sarah was in a car accident and only a little hurt. Who will they call if it's her dad who is hurt or…worse?

Probably not a 13-year-old. Sarah? Maybe or probably Uncle Tommy…would Uncle Tommy come get her?

Would he be the one to tell her?

Would he go straight to the hospital?

What would happen to her?

She sure as hell isn't going to her mom. She hasn't heard from her mom since early August; it had been almost two years before that.

Sarah is 18, so she's technically an adult. Will she just live with Sarah? Will she have to move to Houston and…live in Sarah's dorm? Her roommate, Molly, might not like that. Will Sarah even want Ellie to live with her?

How will Sarah feel if, after losing her mom and her dad, she then has to raise her kid sister when she's kind of still a kid herself?

Would she even want to?

Technically, they're only half-sisters. Ellie always forgets that; they've always just referred to themselves as sisters, and so does everyone they know, but does that change if the shared parent dies?

She starts to imagine not seeing her dad again; she saw him this morning as she rushed out the door; what if that was the last time she ever saw him? Yelling, "Have a good day, baby!" while he poured coffee into one of his travel mugs.

Ellie doesn't realize that she's crying until she feels tears dripping from her chin to her neck and hurriedly wipes at her eyes. Her chest tightens up, and she feels an anxiety attack coming on, and that's not good. If her dad is okay and does get home soon and finds her freaking out, she will never be left alone again. He'll rearrange his schedule and pick her up from school every day until she graduates from high school, possibly college.

She leans her head against her knees, which she had pulled up to her chest, and tries to take a deep breath to slow her racing heart. Her breath is so loud and ragged that she almost doesn't hear the front door open. When she does, she nearly falls on her face, trying to get off the bed, and races downstairs.

"DA—Uncle Tommy?" she finishes as she sees her uncle looking around the living room.

Oh god, he was in an accident. They sent Uncle Tommy to tell her. Ellie feels the room start spinning, and her breath feels caught in her throat. She sits down on the bottom stair, her eyesight blurring, and she tries to steel herself, waiting for Uncle Tommy to say the words that will shatter her entire existence.

"Hey Elliebean, what's…" His voice trails off as he realizes she's not coming over. He comes to her and kneels in front of her. What's wrong, honey?"

"Is it Dad," she hears herself croak out, "is he dead?"

"What?" Uncle Tommy looks horrified and confused. "No, he's at dinner. It's going long, his phone is almost dead, and someone took the charging cable out of his truck."

Oh shit. She did that a couple days ago when he dropped her off at Sophie's house to work on a school project, and she needed one.

"It's been a crazy day." Uncle Tommy continues, "He had to go between all three job sites multiple times and never had time to find another charger. Then Mr. Harte got into town late, and their dinner started late, and he wanted me to come to check on you. He turned his phone off to save the battery."

He takes a step forward and notices her red eyes and damp cheeks. "Are you okay, honey?"

Ellie nods and gives one last swipe at her eyes, "Yeah, of course, why wouldn't I be? I can be home by myself."

"You just look a little spooked, that's all."

"Yeah, well, when someone comes bursting into the house with no warning, it's a little fucking spooky."

Her uncle blinks in surprise at her outburst, and she knows she should apologize, but she's coming down for thinking her dad was dead and an almost anxiety attack and her fear is turning into anger. Anger at her dad for treating her like a baby and letting her get to 13 and not be able to be in the house by herself for one whole evening. Anger at Sarah for just… always being around and then suddenly not being around and anger at herself for being such a fucking baby.

Uncle Tommy furrows his brow, "Sorry about that; I forgot to call before coming over; I meant to be here sooner, but I had some projects I was working on at home." He looks around and then back at her, "You know, Maria is working on a big case tonight and is stressed. She's been giving me dirty looks if I so much as breathe too loudly, so maybe I'll just hang out here with you for a while. If you don't mind, of course, I don't want to butt in on your evening."

Ellie knows what he's doing, and it rankles her even more, but if she gets mad at Uncle Tommy and sends him away after he's seen her upset, it will definitely get back to her dad, which won't help her cause. It is nice having someone else in the house, she thinks grudgingly. "Whatever, man. If you're so afraid of your fiancé that you want to hang out here, that's fine, but we're watching what I want on TV."

Uncle Tommy laughs. "Deal, he says. I'm going to grab something to drink. Do you want anything?"

"I mean if you want to make me a hot chocolate…." Ellie calls, walking to the couch and picking up the remote. If he's going to stay and undermine her independence, he's going to work at little.

"Are you allowed to have hot chocolate this late? I heard something about an obscene number of cavities during your last trip to the dentist."

Pfft, obscene. It was like three small ones, and one was on a baby tooth that hadn't fallen out yet. "Uhh, he got over that," Ellie replies, figuring he probably has. That was like two months ago. I think I was introducing you to Doctor Who; it's time for you to meet number 10."

"I like meeting new people, so put it on kiddo."

Ellie sits at one corner of the couch, and while she waits for Uncle Tommy, she pulls up the show and digs around for her favorite couch blanket. It's not very cold, but besides feeling empty, the house feels draftier than normal.

Uncle Tommy finally comes in and hands her a cup (too small of a cup, if you ask Ellie) of hot chocolate and picks up the remote before Ellie can.

"Hey! You said I could pick the show; we're watching Doctor Who."

"Calm down, we'll watch your show in a second. We need to talk first."

Ugh, here it comes,

"Level with me. Are you sure you're okay? You didn't really look okay when I came in, and your first question was if your dad was dead. That's not a normal greeting."

"Maybe not to you," Ellie retorts, "but I bet it is if you live in a war zone. Check your privilege, man."

Uncle Tommy rolls her eyes. "Uh huh, okay. I spent two years in Afghanistan, but go ahead and tell me about war zones."

Ellie scowls. He really loves playing that card.

"Let's try again; you want to tell me what happened?"

"No. You'll tell Dad, and then he'll like handcuff me to his side until I'm 30."

"As long as you're not in danger, I won't say anything to your dad."

Ellie glares at him even harder and shrugs.

"It's okay if you were a little scared to be home so late alone; you never have been before."

"No, it's not okay. Sarah had to stay home with me even later when she was my age, and she wasn't scared. No one lets me do anything; I'm just the fucking baby, and then when I need to, I can't handle it, and it's just one more thing that Sarah can do that I can't."

She flops her head against the couch, trying to fight back tears.

"Do you know she wasn't scared?"

"What?" Ellie sits back up and stares at her uncle.

"Has she ever told you directly that she wasn't scared?"

"No, but like, I was here with her. She never seemed scared."

He shrugs, "Well, maybe before you compare yourself to someone, you should make sure you know what you're comparing yourself to."

Ellie doesn't have a response to that, so she just continues to stare at Uncle Tommy.

"I've been where you are, comparing yourself to an older sibling who seems to do everything right all the time, you know." Ellie doesn't say anything, "Hell, I still compare myself to Joel. Maria talks about having kids sometimes, and all I can think is that I'll never be as good of a dad as Joel. I'll feel like a failure compared to him."

Ellie smiles a little, trying to imagine Uncle Tommy, who once let them turn the whole living room into a blanket fort so he could lie down in one corner and sleep off a hangover, being a dad who enforces bedtimes and doesn't allow ice cream for dinner.

"I bet if I ask him, though, he'll say he feels like a failure most of the time. Actually, I don't have to ask him; he tells me he's a failure at least once a week. So, don't compare yourself to your idea of someone."

Ellie nods slowly, "I don't really have a closing thought, so… here's the remote, put on your Doctor."

Ellie gives him a small smile and starts to pull up the first episode with the tenth Doctor.

"But Ellie, next time you're concerned about your dad's whereabouts, you can always call me; I could have told you what was going on tonight if you had just called me, and younger sibling society privacy rules would have applied."

Crap, she hadn't even thought of that, and she feels a little embarrassed. She gives him a small smile and nods and starts the show.

They watch in silence as the Christmas trees pull out machine guns on the people of London, and Rose, Mickey, and Jackie try to get The Doctor to wake up. She's still annoyed at her dad for treating her like a baby and kind of making her one, but the emotions of the evening start to catch up with her, and she feels her eyes begin to close.

She drifts off at some point and wakes up to her dad perched next to her on the couch, running his hand over her head. She blinks a couple of times. "You're home," she murmurs happily. Damn it, the plan had been to appear cool and unbothered when he got home as if Ellie had barely realized he was gone. However, her brain is so sleep-addled that she smiles without realizing it, so happy to see him.

Uncle Tommy chuckles softly, "I would love to have someone be so happy to see me when I get home."

Her dad smiles and runs his thumb over Elle's cheek, "Well, get your own; this one is mine."

Ellie nods and squishes further back into the couch to give her dad more room. "I'm sorry it's so late, baby. Everything just took forever tonight, and then we were finally done with dinner, and I turned my phone back on-- by the way, I need the charging cable for the car back; I know you still have it."

Ellie groans; she's honestly not sure where it is, maybe in her backpack.

"Anyway, I turned my phone back on and got a message that the cameras had picked up a break-in at the Pflugerville site, and I had to run up there.

"Everything okay?" Uncle Tommy asks. He doesn't seem too bothered, so he must have already known what happened.

Her dad waves his hand dismissively, "Just some teenagers. They knocked over a few trashcans, and that was about it. I'll tell you more later."

He moves his focus back to Ellie, who is already starting to fall back asleep, lulled by the safety of having her dad home. "It's late, baby. Go up and get changed for bed before you fall asleep here. I'll come say good night in a few minutes."

Ellie nods, and Dad helps her stand up, pulling her in for a quick hug and a kiss to her temple. She leans down to give Uncle Tommy a quick hug: "Night, Uncle Tommy. Sorry, your fiancé kicked you out. You're lucky I had an opening in my schedule tonight."

He snorts, and she hears her dad chuckle behind her. "You really helped me out tonight, sugar. What would I have done?"

She knows he only came over because her dad asked him to and that he only stayed because he could tell Ellie was upset, but she needs to save face a little. "Be sad and alone?"

"Didn't your dad just tell you to go to bed?"

Ellie laughs and sticks her tongue out at him before heading upstairs.

"Brush your teeth and use that damn water pick." Her dad yells up after her. "I see that mug of hot chocolate; we're not contributing any more money to the dentist's lake house fund."

So, he's not over the three cavity dentist visit.

"Not sure why I pay for dental insurance," she hears him muttering to himself and Uncle Tommy snickering, "barely covers anything."

Ellie changes quickly and halfheartedly runs the water pick over her teeth for a few seconds to say she did as she was told before brushing her teeth. She crawls into bed and suddenly feels very awake. Why is the couch so much more conducive to sleep than her bed?

She hears Uncle Tommy leave and her dad come upstairs. She closes her eyes, enjoying the comforting sounds of having her dad home. She tracks his footsteps on the floor in his room across the hall, his dresser drawers opening and closing, and the bathroom sink turning on and off. Finally, she hears him cross the hall, and he knocks once on her bedroom door before coming in. He's always respectful of their privacy and boundaries, something that seems funny to Ellie, given how she and Sarah treat his bedroom as a public gathering space going in and out the same way they do their own rooms or the kitchen.

"Hey baby," he says softly as he enters her room. He's changed into an old pair of sweatshorts and one of his old soccer parents' t-shirts. He goes over to her desk to turn off her lamp and then comes over and switches on her nightlight. Stars and planets are thrown across her ceiling and walls, giving the room a cozy glow. Ellie could easily do it herself each night, but she always leaves it for her dad to do; it's just part of the routine.

Dad sits on the edge of her bed and leans down to press a kiss to her forehead. "It's late. You should be asleep."

Ellie shrugs, unsure what to say to that, and her dad sits back, bracing one hand on her other side. "I brought you a slice of chocolate cake from the restaurant," he tells her, "To make up for being gone so long. You can have it for breakfast tomorrow morning."

"Really?" Ellie feels herself perk up; she feels some of the anger she had been trying to summon dissipate; he must really feel bad. Cake for breakfast is usually reserved for the day after a birthday or when Uncle Tommy is in charge.

Her dad laughs softly. "Really, but I get a couple of bites," he narrows his eyes at her. "Dad tax."

Ellie sighs dramatically and rolls her eyes, "Fine, but a normal-sized bite, not dad bites."

"Dad bites?" Her dad looks confused.

"Yeah, you always take bigger bites of things than I do; I say you can have a bite of my cookie, and then half my cookie is gone."

Her dad nods seriously, but she can tell he's about to smile; "Sorry, kiddo, I promise only a small bite of your cake."

He's quiet for a second, moving the glass of water back from the edge of her nightstand and rubbing at a water spot from a night Ellie forgot to use a coaster. Ellie waits, feeling like he's trying to work himself up to say something. "I'm sorry, again, that I left you alone for so long tonight. I didn't mean for it to get so late. If I had known, I would have asked Uncle Tommy to come over earlier or arranged for you to go to Bill and Franks for the evening. You should not have been here alone for that long, especially when I wasn't reachable because of an almost dead cell phone."

"I'm not a fucking baby," Ellie argues, a flash of that frustration returning. "I can stay by myself."

"I know you're not a baby," her dad replies, holding his palm out and smiling softly at her. She knows what's coming, "But you're my baby."

Ellie sighs, "Sarah is your baby too, and she stayed home alone when she was my age."

"Not this late," her dad shakes his head firmly, "it was after 11 when I got home."

"Almost as late," Ellie countered, "and while having to take care of me."

Her dad's face changes suddenly, and he looks sad and a little tired; he rubs his hand over his face and then looks back at Ellie, "I'm not proud of a lot of things that I let Sarah do. I let her grow up too fast; and as much as I tried to course correct, I can't change the past so…" he lets out a tired sigh, "so if there are things I don't let you do or don't like to let you do that Sarah did, it's not because I don't trust you, but because I'm just trying to be better for you."

Ellie almost says that sucks for Sarah, but she can only imagine the guilt spiral that would send her dad on, so she simply nods.

Dad smiles sadly at her and places his hand on her forehead. "You are getting older, though. I know that, and I know you are just as capable as Sarah was, so…I will start finding ways to let you be more independent. I'll work on that, I promise."

Ellie nods, "That would be nice. I don't want to be 18 and afraid of an empty house."

"Fair enough, but, "he leans down and presses their foreheads together, "can you stay my baby for a little longer?"

Ellie dramatically rolls her eyes, "Maybe, but only if you keep letting me eat cake for breakfast."

Dad rolls his eyes back and gently tweaks her nose, "Go to sleep, brat. It's late, and you have school tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Friday, and I don't have any tests…" Ellie starts hopefully, but her dad is already shaking his as he heads for the door,

"Sorry, kiddo, it's still early in the year, and you need to save those absences in case you get sick." Ellie groans. "But… I'll take you tomorrow, so you'll get a few extra minutes of sleep."

"Eh, it'll do."

"I'm glad that works for you," he tells her dryly before leaning down for a final kiss on her cheek. "Dream something good, baby."

Before she falls asleep, Ellie thinks about what Uncle Tommy said about asking Sarah if she was ever scared. Maybe she should ask her one day.

Over the next couple of weeks, Ellie is surprised when her dad tries to find ways to let her be more independent. One night, when he has to help Uncle Tommy with his truck, he lets Ellie stay home alone, even though he's gone until after 8. The following week, he lets her ride her bike to her friend Liam's house to work on a school project. Liam lives in their neighborhood but on the far side of it, so it's about a 10-minute bike ride, and her dad usually finds a reason to drive her. Ellie had to text her dad when she got to Liam's and when she left to come home. It didn't escape her that her dad just happened to be hanging out in the front yard when she got home, but he let her do it, and that's what mattered.

Ellie also noticed that the more freedom she was offered, the less she seemed to need it. Her dad offered to let her stay home alone one night when he had to work late, but she chose to go over to Bill and Frank's. She hadn't spent much time with them since school started and missed them. She had a fun evening pestering Bill while he made dinner and doing homework while Frank worked on his consulting work.

When she didn't feel like she needed to do something to prove herself, she just did what she wanted.

There continued to be scheduling issues, though; her dad almost missed her school art show when a meeting was scheduled at the same time; he got Uncle Tommy to cover the meeting for him. Then he had to reschedule Ellie's therapy appointment when he forgot he had to be at the Georgetown site all day with electricians. He had to reschedule it again when Ellie had Spanish Club after school. He was going to have to reschedule again when Ellie got a cold, but then he just canceled it. Ellie is okay with this; she doesn't go that often now; her dad only made the appointment after the night home alone, which seemed like an overreaction to that whole situation.

She does have an issue when he forgets to pick her up after her animation club meeting one week, and she has to call Frank to pick her up. "It wasn't on the calendar," he argued when Ellie gave him the silent treatment that night. He's not wrong, but she said, "Don't forget to pick me up at 4:15," when she was leaving for school. Although he may have been on the phone with Uncle Tommy when she left...it was a bit of a rush.

Then he misses her fall choir concert.

It's the smaller of the two concerts they do each year; the spring concert is done with the band and orchestra classes, and the fall concert is just the choir classes. But Ellie's class, the girls' choir, has some cool pieces, and she has a small solo in one of them, so she's excited.

Ellie diligently adds the performance to the calendar on the fridge, written in green, her designated color. She realizes midday that she forgot to remind her dad about it that morning, but it's on the calendar. He'll figure it out. That's what the calendar is for, right?

On performance night, everyone stays after school for a final rehearsal and warmups. They also eat so no one passes out on stage. Phones are not supposed to be out, but there's no punishment if they're out beyond a pointed look from Mrs. Cruz. That is the only reason Ellie notices a text from her dad about 6.

Hey, kiddo, remember to go to Bill and Franks for dinner; I'll be in San Antonio until about 8.

What?? Why is her dad in San Antonio? She thinks she remembers him mentioning going to San Antonio to talk to someone about work, but she thought that was next week. Isn't it next week?

No choir concert tonight.

There's a long minute where three dots appear and disappear and then appear and disappear again, and then her phone rings.

"What do you mean you're in San Antonio?"

"What do you mean your choir concert is tonight? It's on the calendar for tomorrow night."

"Um, check your eyes, old man, it's today."

Her dad sighs, and she can practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ellie, I'm over an hour away, and I'm in the middle of a meeting. How did this happen?"

"I don't know, man; I put the concert on the calendar, just like I was supposed to."

"Well, I put this meeting in San Antonio on the calendar."

"Okay." Really, what is Ellie supposed to do with that? It's dawning on her that her dad will actually miss her choir concert. He's always been at her concerts. Even in elementary school, when they were during the early assemblies, he always made it work.

It's also quiet on her dad's side; he's realizing the same thing. "Baby…"

"I know. I'll see you tonight. I can't have my phone out."

Ellie ends the call, turns her phone off for good measure, and resists the urge to hurl it across the room. Instead, she sinks to the ground in the choir room, buries her head in her knees, and tries to swallow the urge to cry building in her throat. She doesn't know why she's so upset; it's one concert, just the fall concert. There are plenty of kids whose parents miss a concert sometimes. But her dad never does. He always sits on the right-hand side because that's where the altos stand. As soon as she gets on stage, Ellie always looks for her dad first, and she always finds him. Ugh, it's also the first concert Sarah won't be at. Ellie hasn't even mentioned the concert to Sarah; she's seemed busy and stressed out lately when they talk. Ellie didn't want to make her feel bad. Sarah always brought Ellie flowers and a fancy cupcake or something. "I know what you really want," she joked.

Afterward, they get ice cream with Sophie's family: Ms. Tracey and Mr. Ben, her older brother Brighton, one of Sarah's best friends, and Nora, their little sister. Ms. Tracey always takes tons of photos, and they get home late.

Ellie takes a deep breath and is about to force herself to get up and grab some food before she breaks down when she feels a soft hand on her shoulder. She immediately recognizes it as Ms. Tracey.

"Your dad just texted me, Ellie. He feels awful."

Ellie shrugs, "It's not a big deal, I'm fine."

"It is a big deal, and I laid into your dad about it. He's been more of a mess than usual and he needs to get it together." Ellie gives her a small smile; she's not wrong. "You're coming with us after the concert, okay? Ice cream as usual, and then you'll wait for your dad at our house."

"You can just take me home." Ellie isn't sure she wants pity ice cream from another family, even if it is one she's known most of her life.

"Nope. Your dad asked me to take you to our house, so that's what we're going to do. I'll take lots of videos and photos and send them to him."

Ellie nods and stands up. She knows Ms. Tracey means well, but she just wants to get this all over with.

"Okay, that sounds good. I'm going to go get some pizza." Ms. Tracey studies her for a second and nods, "Okay, sweetie. Let me know if you need anything."

The rest of the evening is a blur. Ellie gets through the performance and her solo, purposefully not looking to the right, where her dad should be. When he picks her up around 9:30, he reaches to give her a hug, but she wriggles away under the guise of getting her stuff. He talks with Ms. Tracey for a second, and they leave and the drive home is quiet.

When they get home, Ellie makes a beeline for the calendar on the fridge. "See," she announces triumphantly, "ECC, Ellie choir concert."

Her dad joins her at the calendar and nods, "Yup, ECC on Friday."

"What?" She looks again, and yup, she'd written the concert in on Friday. She had kept getting the day confused. Concerts feel like they should be on a Friday, and they usually were, but they'd had to move it to Thursday this year.

"Well, I know a couple of emails were sent." This really is getting ridiculous. Sarah may have stuck reminders around the house, but she couldn't check his email. He usually had it much more together than this.

Her dad squirm: "Yeah…I may have missed a few school emails recently. Work has been crazy, and you had it on the calendar, so…"

They stand awkwardly in front of the calendar for a minute, and her dad sighs, "We need to figure something else out; this isn't working." He rubs his hands over his face, "Ugh, he groans," and for a second he seems to forget Ellie is there, "Why is everything such a fucking mess."

Ellie really doesn't know what to add to this; her dad usually doesn't cuss like that in front of her, even when she's throwing out fucks every other word. He looks over at her, sighs, and pulls her in for a hug. "Sorry, baby, work stuff. You're not a mess; you're the best part of my day." He presses his face into the top of her head. "I'll figure something out." He pulls away. C'mon, let's change, and then we can lie in my bed, watch all these videos Tracey sent me, and forget about this day."

The next day, when Ellie gets home, she finds her dad and her dad's office administrator, Morgan, at the kitchen table, laptops open.

This is not entirely unheard of; Morgan usually works from home so she can be with her kids. However, sometimes, she has to go to one of the work sites, and sometimes, she works from their house. She's married to the Adlers' oldest son, Mark, so when she works from their house, she drops her kids next door for free babysitting. Sometimes Ellie thinks she works from their house so that she has an excuse to drop her kids with her in-laws for a while. Leo who's almost 3 and Hannah who's 6 months are very cute, but very loud.

She's technically the office administrator, but Ellie and Sarah joke that she's their dad's personal assistant. He always rolls his eyes when they call her that and mutters, "I don't need a personal assistant," even though he kind of does sometimes. Ellie is pretty sure that Morgan has selected and purchased a few of her birthday and Christmas gifts over the last few years.

(She also knows that Morgan signed her up for science camp last summer because she texted Ellie asking for her top 3 favorite topics in science, and then when Ellie got home from school, her dad told her she was registered for science camp. It wasn't hard to sus out.)

Morgan started working for their dad about three years ago when the business had gotten bigger quickly, and he needed help with paperwork. Morgan had just graduated from college and planned to get a job with her business degree. Then she got pregnant and wanted a part-time job that would be flexible so she didn't have to pay for childcare.

They'd known Morgan for a few years, since she'd started dating Mark and hanging out at the Adler's house, so it was an easy fit, and her dad is super flexible on when she works and where.

He tries not to drag her onsite too often, but she's usually up for it; she says it gives her a change of scenery and is a break from her kids.

(Ellie is pretty sure Morgan had a crush on her dad when she started hanging out at the Adlers' house. Sarah flat out asked her once, and Morgan laughed but didn't deny it. She just said the best way to get over a crush is to work for that person and see how chaotic they are.)

"Hey, Ellie," Morgan calls as she enters the kitchen.

Ellie responds and goes to stand next to her dad. He pulls her in with his arm around her waist, and she kisses the top of his head, which always makes him smile. "I think I have more gray hairs," she tells him, poking at his head.

He jerks away, "who do you think put them there?"

"That Sarah is a handful," Ellie agrees, squealing and dodging a poke to her side.

"It is getting long," she says, going to grab a soda from the fridge. Soon, you'll be able to put it in a man bun like Uncle Tommy; you'll match."

Her dad scowls at her, which makes her laugh harder, but she doesn't miss that he leans over to Morgan and asks if she can make some time on Monday for him to get a haircut.

"Big work project?" she asks, coming back to the table and grabbing a cookie from the plate in the center of the table. They look like Mrs. Adler's cookies. Before she takes a bite, she raises her eyebrows at Morgan, "Are these?"

"Chocolate chip," Morgan assures her. I've discussed the difference between raisins and chocolate chips with Connie enough now."

Ellie nods and takes a bite. They're not as good as the Bills, but they're pretty good.

"We are," her dad says, pulling out the chair next to him for Ellie, "creating a new calendar for you and me so that I do not miss any more live performances, back-to-school nights, or parent meetings."

"It's my charity work for the month," Morgan jokes, taking a swig of Diet Coke and jotting something down on her notepad.

(Morgan and Sarah bonded immediately years ago over their firm belief that to-do lists are best written down.)

"It's not," her dad replies. I'm paying you for this."

Morgan smiles and waves her hand. "Sure, boss, but not getting a panicked phone call from you at seven at night that you missed some function will be payment enough for me."

"That has happened twice, three times at most," her dad mutters, and Morgan and Ellie exchange knowing smiles.

"I try to keep my work and personal life separate." Her dad grumbles when Morgan syncs his inboxes and calendars. "Isn't that good for mental health?"

"Joel, you're a single father who owns your own business. You want to protect your mental health, meditate." Morgan quips, "You want to not schedule a parent-teacher conference at the same time as a client meeting, again? Sync your damn calendars."

"I could fire you for insubordination," her dad grumbles, his brow furrowed in a way that reminds Ellie of her own when she's sulking. It makes her giggle a little—maybe she and her dad are more alike than she thinks.

"I have access to your and your kids' social security numbers and two of your credit cards," Morgan says breezily, this is the third time he's threatened to fire her. "Good luck with that."

Morgan makes her dad open every email from school from the last three months; he did miss a lot, and Morgan tsks and cocks her eyebrows at him a couple of times, making her dad squirm.

Ellie laughs until Morgan makes her get out her laptop to pull up her school email and dump out her backpack to make sure they add all of her school stuff to a calendar. Ellie bristles at this until she sees the notes about an English paper due Tuesday that she hasn't started yet and a poster board on the culture of either the Maya, Aztec, or Inca civilizations due Monday that she also hasn't started yet. Now it's her turn to squirm.

"Ellie," her dad sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I know what you're doing this weekend."

"Like father, like daughter," Morgan jokes as she enters the due dates on the calendar and marks them green.

"Can you fire her?" Ellie asks her dad; he shakes his head sadly, making Morgan cackle.

"I'm impervious," she tells Ellie.

"Well…" Ellie tries to find something to say to save herself. "I can do my social studies project on the Incas; maybe we're related to them."

That does make her dad smile, and he winks at her, "Maybe we can find out more about where your short gene came from."

Ellie's not sure what she does, but later, Morgan syncs everything together and creates a massive, color-coded calendar they can pull up on their laptops or phones. "Isn't it beautiful?" she whispers as they stare at the finished product, which is full of colored boxes stacked up and overlapping in place.

"Do we do that fucking much?" Ellie asks, horrified, "That's it, I'm dropping out of school."

"I think I just developed an ulcer," her dad croaks, "and, no, you're not dropping out of school."

"Now," Morgan says, as she starts to gather her things so she can go get her kids from next door. You're good for now, but this has to be kept up. I suggest setting aside time once a week for a family meeting to ensure everyone is on the same page and has all their stuff added."

Ellie and her dad shoot her matching bewildered looks. "Meeting?" Ellie asks, "Every week?"

Morgan crosses her arms and looks between them. "You are the only two people who live in this house, and you're both homebodies. You really can't talk once a week to update a calendar? Do you ever talk? Do we need to be having another kind of conversation right now?"

Her dad rolls his eyes and waves his hand, "We talk all the time, just not at a formally designated time."

"Well, pick one. Or you're going to end up right back where you were. Make it Saturday or Sunday, after breakfast or before dinner or something." Morgan gives her dad a look as she walks to the door. "I'll be revisiting this with you monthly for at least the next six months; it helps my sanity as much as yours, so… don't screw it up, Miller."

"Who's the boss here?" her dad mutters, but he's smiling and he reminds her to submit the hours on her timesheet so he can pay her for them.

Sunday becomes their family meeting time, usually over breakfast or just after. It's okay, and it does help to think through everything due that week. Several times, Ellie catches an upcoming test and project she'd forgotten and saves herself some last-minute cramming.

"What should we do with the calendar on the fridge?" Ellie asks after their 3rd weekly meeting. "We're not using it like we were supposed to, but Sarah put it there for us."

"We can keep it and use it for the big stuff: birthdays, holidays, days Sarah comes home," Dad suggests. It's big enough to be a countdown to stuff we're looking forward to."

Ellie agrees, and they update for the month with the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday and Frank's birthday.

Sarah finally comes home the Tuesday night before Thanksgiving, and Ellie is relieved to have her sister home for five whole days. She'd gotten busy at school, and they'd only seen her once since her dad's birthday at the end of September. Ellie follows her around the house, afraid Sarah will disappear if she doesn't keep her in sight. Her dad keeps staring at her, pretending his eye's aren't getting misty at the sight of her.

They're sitting around the kitchen table trying to decide what to do for dinner when Sarah gets up to grab water from the fridge. It's then that she notices the almost empty calendar hanging there. "Why aren't y'all keeping this up? I set this up to help you keep up with stuff. I'll add updating it to my list for the weekend."

Oh shit, they'd forgotten to tell Sarah about their new schedule system.

Ellie and their dad play a quick game of you tell her with their eyes, and finally, her dad speaks up, "We've kind of had to start using the calendars on our phone. The written one wasn't working very well for us…" he trails off as Sarah's eyes widen into horror.

"Yeah," Ellie adds hurriedly, "we both have like serial killer handwriting, so it didn't work well on paper, and sometimes I get days mixed up when I add things, and then Dad missed back to school night, and my choir concert –"

"You had a choir concert? You didn't tell me." Sarah sounds so hurt, and suddenly, Ellie's decision not to say anything to avoid making her feel bad seems short-sighted.

"Well, I…I didn't want you to feel bad…" Ellie stammers.

"You missed a choir concert?" Sarah whirls around to face her dad, hands on her hips. Crap, she didn't mean to throw her dad under the bus. She tries to send him a desperate, I'm sorry look over Sarah's shoulder.

"There was a work thing, and Ellie had written it on the wrong day, and I didn't see the email from the school…"

Ellie is secretly glad to see her dad is floundering as badly as she did. "Tracey recorded it; I can send you the video," he offers lamely.

Sarah shakes her head, her look of annoyance changing to one of hurt. "I can't believe this. I've been gone for three months, and you ditch my calendar and miss events, and you start hiding things from me."

"We didn't ditch your calendar. Without you here, it didn't work for us, and we didn't want to worry you, honey. You should be focused on school and your life; you don't need to worry if I made it to back-to-school night." Their dad has his hand out like he wants to hug her, but he's unsure if it's the right moment.

"And," Ellie jumps in, "we don't miss anything with the new system. We even have a family meeting every Sunday to go through the week. I even got a paper done a whole day early after remembering it at our family meeting." Sarah likes getting things done early, compared to Ellie's version of early, which is having things done at least one class period before they are due.

Sarah looks even more hurt, and Ellie is horrified to see her eyes welling up. "So you have a shared family calendar that doesn't include me? And family meetings without me? Because… I'm not part of the family anymore? What? Sarah left, so now we don't need to include her in anything?"

"No!"

"Baby, you know that's not true!"

Sarah turns to face her dad, "Is that why you've stopped talking to me?"

Now her dad looks horrified, "What are you talking about?"

"You never call me. I always have to call you, and then you end the call as fast as possible."

Ellie thinks Sarah is exaggerating a little, but she's also not entirely wrong. Their dad has somehow gotten it in his head that the best way to show his support is to leave her alone to do her thing. He tried to get Ellie to do the same, but she decided early on to consider that directive optional and continued to text Sarah whenever she wanted. She's sure her dad knows, but he lets it go as long as Sarah isn't calling to question his parenting choices.

"Honey, I'm just trying to give you space so you can live your own life."

"Well, it feels like my dad has just stopped caring about me. Great job." Yikes, their dad looks like he's been slapped. "Is it even okay that I came home for Thanksgiving? Should I leave?"

"Baby," her dad starts in a strangled voice.

"Whatever." Sarah turns and walks out. A moment later, the back door slams shut.

Ellie glances awkwardly at their dad, "Maybe we should have planned for that...?"

Her dad sighs and drops into one of the dining room tables, burying his face in his hand. He seems to need a minute alone, so Ellie decides to check on her sister and slips out the back door.

At first, she doesn't see Sarah and starts worrying that she's left, but then she hears a sniffle above, coming from the tree house. She hesitates for a second; Ellie knows that sometimes when she's upset, she hates for people to come after her, but then decides fuck it. This whole thing is about them not communicating with Sarah.

Ellie climbs the ladder to her treehouse and sees her sister sitting next to the window, her knees pulled up to her chest. She knocks on the little doorway into the main room. "Hey, can I come in?"

Sarah shrugs and doesn't look up; "It's your treehouse; I can leave if you want."

"No, stay. It's technically yours, too." Ellie gingerly crawls over to Sarah and sits beside her, facing the opposite way. She matches her posture, with her knees drawn, and lays her head on her knees, facing her sister. "I'm sorry we made you feel bad; we never meant for that to happen."

Sarah shakes her head, wipes her eyes across her jeans, and turns her face to look at Ellie. "No, I overreacted. I don't live here anymore, or not full-time. I guess I've spent the last three months assuming y'all were sitting around missing me, but your lives have gone on, and it just kind of hit me—" she shrugs as a fresh wave of tears spill down her cheeks and Ellie tips toward her to lay her head on his sister's shoulder "it made me sad."

They sit quietly for a few minutes, and Ellie tries to fight the tightening in her chest; her crying right now won't help. After a few minutes, Sarah wipes her eyes and gives Ellie a watery smile, "I miss you guys a lot, you know. It's harder than I thought it would be not being home."

"We miss you too," Ellie whispers. "So much."

"Nah," Sarah scoffs; you guys are doing fine without me.

"We weren't. It sucked for a while, and like…the logistics part has gotten better, but we still miss you. It's like these Sarah-shaped holes are everywhere. I call them Sarah voids, and they're hard to fill."

Sarah smiles at the name, "What's a Sarah void?"

Ellie grins at her, "Well, at first it was things like breakfast, but that was easy to fix. Now it's like…moments I want to share with you. I want to look at you and roll my eyes when Dad comes downstairs in the morning, running late and looking so confused—like he hasn't woken up at the same time for ten years."

Sarah giggles, "Why does he always seem so thrown just by waking up?"

Ellie shakes her head, "It's so weird. Or when he wears those awful jorts on the weekend. Where did he get those, and why are they still a part of his wardrobe?"

Sarah groans, "I tried to lose those in the wash so many times. I'm pretty sure I flat-out threw them in the garbage several times. How does he keep finding them?"

"I think he's pranking us at this point," Ellie says, and they both laugh at their dad trying to pull some great prank on them. He really should know better. "I also miss hanging out with you, like when we'd do our homework in your room or watch TV together. I miss making an ultimate snack plate for dinner when Dad was working late. I tried making one for myself the other night, but it didn't look as good, and I don't eat enough to fill the full platter. I was just sad."

Sarah lays her forehead on Ellie's shoulder this time. "I miss that, too. I could really use an ultimate snack plate some days. I miss dinner together, especially on busy nights where we'd get takeout late and eat in the living room with the TV on but mostly just talking about our day."

Ellie refrains from telling her that happens a couple of times a week now, and it's a little more TV watching than talking.

"I miss Dad grilling me on where I'm going and checking in while I'm out. Then, when I would get home, he'd be casually waiting downstairs." Ellie giggles, knowing exactly what Sarah means. He'd always linger downstairs, sometimes falling asleep on the couch and try to play it off when she did get home. "He'd sit on the counter in the kitchen, like a cool dad, and be like, 'What's up with you?'" Sarah shakes her head, but she's smiling, "So lame, but now I'd kill for him to call me and just check in."

"You should tell him that," Ellie tells her quietly. "He misses you a lot; he…he always said having kids is like having your heart walking outside your chest. Half of his is now three hours away, and it's killing him; he just won't admit it." Sarah's face softens. "He's a dad, but sometimes he's also like such a dude."

"He is such a dude," Sarah agrees, and then she groans, "Maybe it's for the best; he doesn't call." Sarah buries her face back into her knees. "School's hard. Harder than I thought it would be. Like, I'm not flunking out or anything, but—" She gives a little sob. I try so hard, and it doesn't feel like it's enough, and I..I can't tell him that; he'd just worry."

Ellie cocks her head to one side and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, worry more than he already does." There's a long pause, "I don't want him to be disappointed in me."

"Please, you're the OG baby girl," Sarah snorts, "You're perfect to him."

"Yeah, right," Sarah whispers. 

Ellie shakes her head , it's time to lay it out for her sister "Look, you may be older and a psychology…" Sarah nods, "Major, but I've been in therapy since I was 8, and like you and dad…and me aren't always the best at vocalizing what we need. Other people can't read your mind. You have to tell people what you need. So go, tell Dad what you told me. Do you think he's going to say, 'No, Sarah, I won't talk to you' pfft. Please, he'd drive to Houston like once a week if you asked him to."

Sarah nods and bumps Ellie with her shoulder, "When did my baby sister get so smart?"

"I've always been smart," Ellie say primly, "I was so smart that no one could tell."

"Dork," Sarah tells her, flicking her nose as she pushes herself up and makes her way to the ladder. "I should go talk to Dad."

Ellie nods, "Good luck." Then she thinks of something; "Hey, Sarah,"

Sarah stops her descent down the ladder, "Yeah, baby."

"When you and I were home alone when you were like my age….were you ever scared?"

Sarah pauses briefly and then nods, "I was always scared, Ellie."

Ellie's lip trembles, "I wasn't, not when I was with you."

"Good," Sarah says firmly, "that's what I wanted."

Ellie watches her sister go inside and decides she should avoid the house for a while. It's not too cold out, so she opens the old steamer trunk Bill gave her years ago, pulls out a sleeping bag, a flashlight, and a comic book, and makes herself comfortable.

Her dad comes and drags her in about 45 minutes later. He looks emotionally drained but better than he has in weeks. "You should have gone next door," he admonishes her. "Why did you stay outside?" he huffs, placing his hands on her cheeks. You're freezing."

"I'm not," she assures him. He heaves a long parental sigh but puts his arm around her and guides her into the living room, where Sarah is curled up on the couch. She also looks emotionally exhausted, but she's smiling, a real smile, and seems lighter.

She gives Ellie a nod that seems to say, "You were right," or that's how Ellie interprets it. It's rare that her big sister thinks that she's right.

Their dad sits on the couch and starts scrolling through the apps, "We need to eat; what do y'all want?" Ellis settles herself between her dad and sister, and they start to debate the virtues of Chinese versus pizza versus tacos when her dad gets a text.

"Hey, Uncle Tommy wants to see if we want to go bowling with him and Maria. They can meet us there in 30 minutes."

"Bowling?" Sarah looks surprised, "that's kind of weird,"

"It's not," Ellie tells her, realizing there are lots of things they haven't updated Sarah on,

"His friend Robert from the army manages or…maybe bought a bowling alley. Uncle Tommy did a lot of work for him, cleaning it up and fixing stuff, so now he bowls for half price or maybe even free, whenever he wants. We go a lot on Fridays."

"That's cool," Sarah says. "I don't know if I'm good company tonight, though. Plus, there'd be five of us, so I'd throw the teams off."

"If you don't feel like it, that's fine," their dad says. "Ellie and I will stay home with you; we'd much rather see you than Tommy." Ellie nods in agreement. "However," her dad looks down at his phone, "Tommy seems to think he and Maria can take all three of us pretty easily…something about taking on three teenage girls…I think he's calling me a teenage girl."

"Rude but fair," Ellie says. Jumping to the other side of the couch when her dad goes for that spot on her side that's always ticklish.

"I think we can take him, but we'll need…" her dad glances at Ellie, "someone who got four strikes at her 14th birthday party."

Ellie nods, catching one, "Isn't that the same person who got another four strikes and a split last spring break when we went bowling?"

"It is, yes." Dad nods seriously. "She's also the best at keeping score, and she played soccer for years and doesn't let a little competition psych her out."

"And," Ellie adds, "she's the best at trash-talking the opponent, which is kind of surprising."

They look sideways at Sarah, who is rolling her eyes, but a smile plays on her lips. "Three teenage girls, he said that?" Sarah asks, moving into a sitting position, eyes narrowing.

Their dad nods and flashes his phone screen, "asked if we're going to sit around doing our nails all night."

"Ugh, fine!" Sarah throws her hands up, marching for the door. "Tell Uncle Tommy to tighten his man bun. He's about to be taken down by three teenage girls."

"Fuck yeah!" Ellie cheers and high-fives her dad as she jumps up and grabs her shoes. "Let's go kick some Miller ass. Other Miller ass…you know what I mean."

Nothing is settled yet, and Ellie doesn't know exactly what happened between her dad and sister, but that night, they take down Uncle Tommy and Maria 3 games to 1, together, as a family; and she takes that as a good sign.