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“Take your time,” Gloria said gently, tone reasonable and reassuring even as she was silhouetted on the roof by the flashing lights of the government vehicles and underscored by the whirring of drones. “Don’t freak out. I mean,” she corrected herself, “freak out. That’s fine, but…What’s the real thing that’s going on? The real thing is… something happened to your dad.”
David suppressed a bitter laugh. Nothing had felt real for several hours now. Not since the enormous alien megafauna had touched down in fucking Pasadena had anything felt real, much less the man who apparently wasn’t even his father.
Gloria, oblivious to this, continued. “And ever since then he’s been doing the best he can. Sometimes failing, sometimes succeeding. That’s all he was trying to do with you.
David nodded silently, unsure what else to do under her sympathetic gaze.
She sighed. “Just stay up here, okay? Right now I have to go downstairs and somehow prevent a war between Leif and the United States Government.”
She climbed the rickety ladder down the back of the diner and made her way to the parking lot while the gears in David’s mind spun in frantic circles. Something happened to your dad.
Except he wasn’t his dad, was he? He’d said as much himself, in that somber, regretful way, eyes dark and serious. He’d apologized for that, too, as if it would help. David’s dad was out there somewhere, in another magical fucking diner, doing who-knew-what. This man was a stranger, a stranger who wore his dad’s face and spoke in a warmer version of his voice, roaming the cosmos in search of a different son.
That was all it had taken, and the last vestiges of the familiar had been yanked out from under David’s feet. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing.
Fuck this.
David looked over the edge of the roof. Gloria was arguing with Leif, while Caspar hovered awkwardly nearby, eyes occasionally flicking up to the roof where David stood. They seemed so…calm about the whole thing. Like the world lumbering to the brink of destruction, driven by the force of sheer absurdity was something they saw every day. Like it was more relaxing to be under threat by the United States Government than it was to spend the day in a normal diner.
He backed away from the edge. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t stay here, not with this warped version of his father and the people who had been lying to him for months.
As quietly as he could, he stole down the ladder behind the diner, and turned to leave.
“And where do you think you’re going at this time of night, young man?”
David froze.
Ava, cigarette in one hand, notebook in the other, watched him curiously as the back door swung shut behind her.
He gritted his teeth. “Home.”
“And you weren’t even going to say goodbye?”
David glared at her. “To who? I don’t know any of you.”
She raised an eyebrow, settling against the wall to take an infuriatingly calm drag from her cigarette. “Really? You know, I could’ve sworn you and Caspar knew each other from somewhere , though for the life of me I can’t remember—”
“He’s not my dad.”
She paused. “What?”
“He’s not my dad.”
“Is that what he told you?”
David crossed his arms protectively over his chest. “He’s not the dad I grew up with. The dad I grew up with it still out there somewhere in a magical diner of his own.”
Ava rolled her eyes. “Oh, fucking hell. Hold that thought—”
She leaned around the corner of the diner and bellowed at the parking lot. “Caspar!”
Caspar’s voice floated back, irritated. “What?”
“You are the biggest idiot in the fucking multiverse!”
A pause. “Okay?”
Ava reappeared, face grim and amused. “Sorry. Honestly, the man’s incapable of doing things the easy way. You’re right, we’re not from this universe—but I doubt this Caspar’s universe of origin is from too far down the multiversal block. Is he, technically speaking, the exact same version of Caspar as the one that raised you? No. Is he still Caspar? Are you still David? Do you think he would be acting this way if he didn’t know, deep down, that you are still his son?”
David’s determination began to slip, but he held onto it stubbornly. “Didn’t he throw you into space?”
Ava raised an eyebrow. “He told you that?”
David gave a short nod.
For a moment she looked almost impressed. “Huh. I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks.”
“He tried to kill you,” David insisted.
She winced. “Well—look, I’m not one to defend Caspar of all people—especially when it comes to the whole throwing-me-into-space debacle—but he wasn’t really trying to kill me. He just… wasn’t trying to not kill me, you know?”
David blinked. This conversation had gone off the rails much quicker than he’d been expecting, but then, given how the rest of the day had gone, he should really stop having any expectations at all. “So you’ve forgiven him,” he said flatly.
“Now, I didn’t say that,” she corrected.
“Oh, sorry, let me guess, you just haven’t not forgiven him.”
She studied him. “You remind me of him sometimes,” she mused.
His temper flared, and he tried not to think of his mother, three drinks in, pointing a finger vaguely towards his face. ‘Bound and determined since birth,’ she'd slurred, ‘to be boring and angry.’
“Well, I promise not to throw you into space,” David snapped. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“I haven’t forgiven him.”
He paused. “Oh?”
Her eyes bored into his, like he was a particularly complex equation she was determined to solve. “I don’t really believe in apologies like that. The whole ‘I’m sorry,’ ‘that’s okay,’ thing.”
Drones whirred overhead, and the mungo let out a low, musical rumble, but for a moment, the strangest thing in David’s increasingly strange world was Ava. She exhaled, smoke floating up towards the stars.
David shook his head. “You traveled together afterwards.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Your dad—”
“He’s not my dad.”
Ava snickered. “Careful,” she warned him, eyes glinting in amusement, “the more you say that the more you sound like him.”
David’s face grew hot. Boring and angry.
Ava carried on. “One of your dad’s many, many flaws, is that he seems to believe in grand gestures. ‘I crawled across three galaxies just to apologize,’ that sort of thing. I, on the other hand, have made it a point in life not to be taken in by the shiny gold of a gilded turd.”
“But you still traveled together,” David insisted again.
Ava pointed her cigarette at him, chastising. “Don’t interrupt me while I’m lecturing, David. If you have any questions, save them for office hours.”
David rolled his eyes.
“As I was saying. Grand gestures are bullshit. But, it was during that argument—naturally it was an argument, David, you know how easy it is to find yourself arguing with that man—it was during that argument he first told me about you.”
David frowned, caught off-guard. “O…kay?”
“Did he tell you why he stayed in the diner all those years?”
David grimaced. “He said he was looking for me.”
“Bingo,” Ava agreed, tapping her nose. “That’s his grand gesture, that’s what he thinks the apology is. Like he can guilt you into forgiveness.”
“We already talked about… before,” David interrupted. “About my childhood. I already forgave him for that.”
“Sure. But you’re angry with him.”
“He lied to me.”
“And then he told you the truth.”
David waited, but Ava said nothing, watching the portion of the street still visible around the diner. “Okay, so about his grand gesture?” he prompted.
She turned back to look at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you talking to me?”
“There’s no one else here.”
“I thought you were leaving.”
He glowered. “Ava, come on.”
She grinned, and he could tell she was resisting the urge to once again comment on family resemblance as she gestured to the parking lot with her cigarette, leaving a trail of thin smoke in the air. “He thinks it’s all about the grand gesture, the effort put into the apology. I think forgiveness, if it’s deserved, should only be given after the offender has proven themselves capable of change, proven a commitment to doing better. And during that argument, he bought himself a chance to do that.
“How?”
“By telling me about you.”
“What?”
Ava breathed out another puff of smoke. “Even before he so callously launched me into deep space, we hadn’t exactly gotten along in the most classical sense of the phrase. He has made a life-long commitment to being an absolute tool, and I have a life-long commitment to making his life that much more miserable. But back then, he wouldn’t tell anyone anything about himself. Whenever the Ex—did he mention the Ex?”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes glinted mischievously. “Did he tell you where she came from?”
“No?”
The mungo let out another musical sound, and Ava seemed to remember that they were in the middle of a crisis. “A story for another time, then,” she decided reluctantly, “but do make sure to ask him, it’s hilarious. Anyway. Before she rebuilt her programming, every time the Ex showed up, he would freak. None of us enjoyed her presence, but Caspar? Caspar couldn’t take it. Leif and I got to know each other’s exes pretty well, we never talked about it, but we knew them. Caspar wouldn’t even take the chance, he’d do anything to avoid her, and if we asked he would just shut down.”
“Because it was about my mom.”
“In more ways than one.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He waited. She took another drag from the cigarette.
“So?” he prompted.
"So. In that apology-turned argument, when I asked what was wrong with him, he told me. In a break from this long-held tradition of being a complete dick, he sat there and told me about his son. He proved that he had, in some way, changed. So I allowed him back in the diner. I gave him the chance to make it up to me. Not because of his angst over being a terrible father or anything, but because he told me.”
“So you think I should forgive him.”
“No,” she corrected. “I think you should do what you want. I think it would be hard not to be angry in your shoes. I also think you know why he did it. And I think it’s hard to find a better apology for lying than telling truth.”
David wavered. “I can’t do this,” he muttered.
She studied him, smiling slightly. “Then don’t. But for what it’s worth, I think you can. It’s a matter of whether you want to or not.”
“Want to do what?”
“Help.”
For a moment, David hesitated. From the front, there was a loud crashing sound, followed by the thundering of water pouring down the street where, until that moment, the government agents had been in a stand off with Leif.
David felt sick. “The river’s back,” he observed flatly.
“Yeah,” Ava agreed. “I should probably get out there.”
David nodded.
Ava walked to the corner of the diner, then paused, turning to give him one last look. Behind her was a scene of utter chaos, the river pounding down the streets of Pasadena, Leif’s drones whirring triumphantly, the ground rumbling with the enormous steps and musical sounds of the mungo. Framed by this insanity, Ava smiled, a small, subtle thing David hadn’t seen on her face before, and addressed the small bubble of relative normality where they stood behind the diner.
“As long as we’re here, you can always come back,” she told him. “The minute you change your mind. I let your dad back in, after all.”
And then she was gone.
Hours and what felt like a hundred lifetimes later, the Paradise sitting outside, David approached Ava’s booth, where she and Caspar were casually sparring in the quiet of the diner, killing time until the movie started.
“Mind if I interrupt your office hours, professor?” he asked politely.
Ava grinned. “See?” she said to Caspar. “This is the respect I deserve.”
“Oh, is that what it is?” Caspar deadpanned. “David, please don’t start calling her ‘professor,’ she really doesn’t need the ego boost.”
“True,” Ava admitted. “It should be ‘doctor.’ Sit down, David.”
David slid into the booth beside her, and faced his father. He took a deep breath, ignoring the way his stomach was clenching painfully. “I’m sorry I ran away again.”
Caspar considered him, a slightly wry smile crawling across his face. “I’m sorry I lied.”
“Thank you for telling the truth.”
“Thank you for coming back.”
They looked at each other, and in the silence that followed David felt, for the first time that day, that something fundamental about the world might just make sense.
The moment held for a few more seconds before Ava chimed in. “Aw, look at this father-son bonding,” she cooed. “I’m going to be sick!”
David snorted. “Hey, this is your fault, you don’t get to complain about it.”
Ava kicked him, and he raised his eyebrows, challenging her to contradict him.
“Her fault?” Caspar repeated, suddenly alarmed. “How is it her fault?”
David shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, I’m going to worry about it. I’m already worried about it. Ava, what did you do? ”
“Who, me?” she asked, batting her eyelashes innocently. “You mean, how did I single-handedly mend your relationship with your son while also saving the entire motherfucking world for the billionth time, free of charge?”
Caspar squinted at her. “I don’t think that’s what I said.”
She ignored him. “I’m so glad you asked, schmoopy. I’ll let you in on a little secret.” She gestured for him to lean over, placed her lips right next to his ear, and shouted, “I’M A FUCKING GENIUS.”
Caspar jerked back, hand over his ear like he’d been stung. “Goddammit.”
“You should’ve seen that one coming,” David commented mildly.
Caspar glared at him. “I know.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with, David?” Ava asked serenely, with the benevolent tone of the mighty academic deigning to bless those around her with some of her knowledge.
David bit back a laugh. “Yeah, actually. I was wondering—where did the Ex come from?”
“Goddammit,” Caspar groaned again, dropping his head into his hands.
Ava bumped her shoulder against David’s, eyes sparkling with delight, and he laughed.
So maybe it wasn’t normal. Not yet. But sitting there between the two of them, he could almost believe that someday, it could be.