Archive of Our Own ^beta

“We’ve got a sold out train tonight folks, just find an empty seat and sit in it.”

She’d been naive to think she would be able to sit alone on the train, Annabeth realizes that now. She started trying to take count in her head as people began to pack around her on the platform, but she quickly gave up once she decided it was pointless. More and more people tried to take shelter from the rain under the awning, sandwiching her between damp strangers, to the point she couldn’t see the crowd forming anyways.

Now she looks at the rows and rows of full seats in front of her and almost thinks she’d rather turn around and take her chances with the storm outside. But the fear of facing her angry mother instead gives her the strength to force her feet down the aisle anyway, ignoring sideways glances from the other passengers as she does. All of her focus is devoted to not getting her suitcase stuck on anyone’s feet.

Finally, she spots an empty aisle seat a few rows ahead. As she assesses the overhead luggage situation, namely the lack of space for her things, she feels a familiar knot tightening in her chest. She glances around, trying to discern which bags belong to who and hoping someone will claim theirs and offer to help make space for her things. Most people already have headphones in or eyes glued to their phones, no one even looks at her.

“If you turn that one the other way, you can fit your bag between those two.” An older woman a few rows back speaks up, nodding to the bags in question. 

Annabeth considers it, and the woman is right, turning the suitcase on its side would definitely make some room. Definitely enough that she could squeeze her duffle bag between it and the smaller bag beside it. She studies it like a puzzle, but there is no clear solution to the issue that she cannot reach over the passengers below the suitcase to be able to turn it on its side. 

“Here, I got it.” The guy in the window seat beside hers wipes his hands across his jeans as he stands, and easily reaches across the aisle to turn the suitcase on its side. Then he grabs a backpack from the overhead compartment above their row. “I’ll just put my bag over there and you can put yours up here.”

She observes him carefully as he reaches above both of their heads, keeping a close eye on her belongings as he takes her bag from her to squeeze onto the shelf above.

He has what appears to be Nacho Cheese Doritos dust on his fingertips, which she prays is not smeared across the side of her bag now. Then, she reminds herself that he was helpful when he didn’t need to be, if not a little messy, and she can forgive him just enough to sit beside him for a few hours.

 “Thank you,” she says, making room for him to shuffle back to his seat before she sits in hers.

“No problem,” he nods in response. He’s polite, but not chatty, which she feels is the ideal scenario.

He pulls his headphones back down over his ears and resumes whatever movie he had been watching on his phone, which is propped up on his fold out table. The way his headphones flatten his blonde curls against his head makes him look comedically similar to a poodle. She pops her Airpods in too, hoping to get some work done before she attempts to sleep. 

The table is a bit small for her laptop to fit comfortably, but it’ll do. The seats themselves are surprisingly spacious, the lack of armrests is disappointing, but the tables are more than she had expected to get.

She finally gets to work on the paper she’s been procrastinating writing all week. Architectural Features in Roman History, a topic she’d usually find interesting, but can’t seem to focus on because every free second in her brain is interrupted by the intended destination of this godforsaken train reminding her of its existence again.

Speaking of interruptions—

“Hey, sorry, do you mind if I squeeze past? Just gonna run to the bathroom really quick,” her seat mate asks. She tries not to sigh as she grabs her laptop and folds the table up so that he can get past her, because she is well aware that it would be irrational to be annoyed with him this early.

She manages to get her intro paragraph done before he returns, beckoning sheepishly to be let back into his seat. Annabeth obliges, as if she has any other choice, and then unlocks her phone to pull the article she’d been reading back up about the Roman people’s pioneering use of concrete.He shifts to get comfortable in his seat again and resumes his movie. 

Her eyes flick between her phone and her laptop screen as she desperately tries to bring her focus back to this paper at least long enough to start another paragraph. A notification pops up on the phone, a gif sent from her dad. She doesn’t open it, but it's just enough to get her mind wandering elsewhere. 

No, focus on the stupid paper.

She decides that her phone is clearly becoming a distraction, she knows herself too well to think she’ll ever get anything done this way, especially with the temptation of Netflix being just a few clicks away. Out of desperation, she considers just deleting the app altogether. Instead, she begrudgingly nudges her seat mate with her elbow. He pulls his headphones off of one ear, and has the nerve to look confused when she speaks, like she must be talking to somebody else.

“Do you know the wifi password?” she asks.

He blinks several times, then reaches to finally pause his movie, pulling his headphones all the way down around his neck. “Huh?”

She sighs, already regretting her decision to speak to him. “I asked if you knew the wifi password.”

“Oh!” He nods, swiping through tabs on his phone. “It was posted in the cafe car, I can airdrop it to you if you want. It’s kinda long.”

Annabeth agrees, and then opens the wifi settings on her own phone, waiting for the notification to come across.

Percy would like to share the password for network Adirondack-Guest

She clicks accept, and watches the wifi signal appear in the top right corner of the screen so that she can type the password into her laptop. As the guy—Percy—is pulling his headphones back up, she mutters a quick, “thank you.” She’s not sure if he hears it.

Annabeth gets 5 more sentences in before she decides she needs a break from this paper. Instead of doing anything remotely productive, she pulls out her phone. Choosing to scroll through Facebook posts instead of enriching her mind through her studies, of course, she thinks to herself, critical enough to feel bad about it, but not quite enough to stop.

She scrolls past a series of photos posted tonight by someone that she isn’t friends with, but has tagged her father in, so it appears on her feed anyways. She knows the name, she recognizes the profile picture. Michelle. And standing beside her, Annabeth’s father, Fredrick, looking happy as a clam in a nice button down. The caption reads: thankful for everyone who made it out to our rehearsal dinner!

A sharp reminder of why she’s on this trip in the first place. To witness her father’s own trip down the aisle, to marry a woman Annabeth’s never even met. Not for lack of opportunity however. She’s been avoiding seeing her father for the last 4 years because she has zero desire to meet this woman. 

It’s a compromise with her mother, really, Annabeth agreed to go to the wedding if she could at least skip the rehearsal dinner. She just couldn’t get herself to bear the thought of sitting in a room surrounded by the most important figures in her father’s life—his colleagues, new friends, his two soon-to-be step sons. The life he’d built when he moved across the country to San Francisco. Like he could hardly wait to escape the life he was abandoning on the east coast. 

So if it had been up to her, she wouldn’t be attending the wedding at all. But that turned out to be nonnegotiable.

“He’s still your dad,” mom reminded her for what seemed like the thousandth time as she watched Annabeth carelessly shove a dress into her suitcase. “If you don’t go, you’ll regret it some day. Maybe it’s hard to imagine when you’re just 21, but trust me, you will.”

Annabeth’s not so sure about that.

The conductor stomps down the aisleway, scanning e-tickets off of everyone’s phone screen.

“Please have your ticket ready and your phone brightness turned to the highest setting.”

She can’t help but think of the Polar Express, the nostalgia of watching Tom Hanks’ character punching BELIEVE into each of the kids’ paper tickets. Evidently those days are long gone, in favor of the ease of a digital pass.

Percy reaches over her just slightly to hold his phone out for the conductor to scan. His hoodie sleeve pulls up as he does so, revealing two rubber bracelets below the cuff. He moves again before she’s able to make out the words on them. 

With one earbud in, she half listens to a podcast and watches the rain against the window until the sun sets. She indulges in her favorite pastime, letting herself get lost in the same daydreams about the life she’s gonna have one day, finishing school and finding the success she’s worked so hard for as an architect, building a life outside of her parents expectations, moving away to start fresh where no one knows her name. The dream life is the only thing that gets her through most days.

Percy seems to have the same thought to call it a night because he reclines his seat back as far as it will go, kicks out the leg rest, and pulls his hood down over his eyes. After a few more minutes of scrolling, she follows suit, and she can’t help but wonder if he is sleeping already. It usually takes her a while of laying with her eyes closed until her brain quiets enough to shut off for the night.

She reaches up for the switch above their two seats and flicks the overhead light off. Most of the other passengers have done the same, leaving the car cast in a soft yellow glow from the emergency lights at each end. 

With her eyes closed and the car silent, her mind inevitably drifts to her father. Specifically the moment her parents told her they’d decided to get a divorce, the quickness with which her father packed his things and left, the fact that he’d seemingly never looked back. She sees the pictures on Facebook, he rarely posts anything himself but Michelle always tags him. Family outings—to the zoo, to a baseball game, to the beach, things he used to do with her. It was hard to admit that he’d moved on, and Annabeth and her mother were just a memory from a past life. 

When she wakes up a few hours later, Percy is staring out the window, his hood pulled up just enough to uncover his eyes. It’s nearly impossible to see anything in the stormy night, but his gaze is lost somewhere out there anyways. It makes her wonder if he’d ever actually fallen asleep at all. He doesn’t look over as she readjusts in her seat, even when she accidentally bumps her knee against his. 

The next time she wakes up, he’s definitely asleep, arm propped up on the windowsill, his head resting in his hand. She realizes that she’s been staring too hard when she notices the drool on his sleeve. Then she wonders if he knows he drools when he sleeps. 

Annabeth raises her seat back up to watch the sun rise through the storm— gloomy and foggy but still somehow just as beautiful. According to her watch, it’s about 5am. They would be approaching their first stop in Buffalo soon. The sound of the rain against the roof is calming despite how loud it is. Some of the other passengers have started to stir, but much like herself, have taken to simply staring quietly out the window. 

She doesn’t realize Percy is awake until he raises his seat beside her, rubbing hard at his eyes as he does. Neither of them speak, even though it’s the first time neither is wearing headphones. He seems slightly less interested in the view than she is, reserving about 30 seconds of admiration for the trees passing by before he looks at her with an apologetic expression that says I need to get up.

He shuffles past after she stands to make room. A wave of nausea and dizziness washes over her as she stands, and she’s reminded that her last meal was 10 hours ago right before she left for the station.

Against her better judgment, she reaches out to tap Percy’s arm before he can get very far down the aisle. He turns back to face her, and looks prepared to apologize for bumping into her when he’d moved past, but his eyes immediately shoot to her hand on his forearm. She snatches it away as if she is surprised by the action just as much as he is.

“Sorry! You said…” She clears her throat uncomfortably. “Yesterday, you said there’s a cafe car?”

He perks up at the mention of food, like an overexcited golden retriever. “Yeah, it’s a few cars back. I’m actually going to head there now if you want to just come with.”

Annabeth actually isn’t particularly interested in having to make small talk with him, but she’s not so sure she can say no either. Turning down his friendly offer is definitely going to make things uncomfortable between them for the next few hours, all the awkward tension between them would only make 12 feel like 20. So, as much as she hates to, she nods for him to lead the way.

He seems perfectly comfortable with the movement of the train, just grabs the handle at the end of the aisle to steady himself. She tries to follow his footsteps confidently without stumbling.

“You take the train a lot?” she asks, curiosity getting the best of her.

“This specific one? No,” he says. “But I’ve taken the train down to Columbia a few times, I go to USC, but I come back on breaks to see my mom.”

She nods, deciding that’s an acceptable answer. “South Carolina, is it nice there?” She wonders if that was a stupid question, if it was horrible there he probably wouldn’t be in school there, right? Okay, maybe you’re overthinking.

If he thinks that it’s a stupid question, he certainly doesn't acknowledge it out loud. “It’s super nice if you love the beach, which I do,” he says, glancing back at her as they slide through the door at the back of the car. “Are you in school?”

“Yeah, NYU.” She hopes that doesn't sound as dry and disinterested to him as it did to her own ears.

“NYU? Okay smarty pants.” He lets out a low, impressed whistle, “Is this your first time on a train?” He asks. She tries not to resent the slight amusement in his voice.

“I guess so.”

“Well, it’s not too bad, just boring mostly. I’ve never been on a ride this long, though. 16 hours is a change of pace for me, for sure. Definitely counting down the hours until the first leg break.”

16 hours. So he’s taking the train all the way to Chicago, where she needs to get off to switch. She tries not to think about how long she’ll have to sit beside him, his drooling, and his Dorito fingers. “What’s in Chicago for you?”

He shrugs, all nonchalance and mystery, “Just a stop on the way to San Francisco really. I have a family thing.”

Before she can digest the San Francisco reveal, the train lurches to a halt, nearly throwing him back into her as she clings to one of the metal bars along the wall. 

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, trying to regain his balance as the train rocks. He uses one hand to brace himself on the wall next to her head, then uses the other to pull himself against the bar. Much to her dismay, his knuckles brush against hers once he regains his footing.

“What is that?” she asks, cautiously glancing out the window like she expects a monster to be there. She takes a breath, trying to keep her composure. “Is that normal?”

“I mean, it’s not not normal, per se," he shrugs. 

She shoots him a look.

“Okay, so it happens sometimes, but it doesn’t happen all the time. Does that help?”

She sighs, he stays quiet, and they both stand in the corridor until the conductor comes over the speaker with an explanation. His hand is still annoyingly close to hers, but he doesn't seem to notice, or if he does notice then he decides not to move it. He appears to be too preoccupied with staring out the window where the rain is battering against the glass. 

“Apologies for the hard stop, folks. The storm is causing some delays down the line, once the trains ahead are able to move, then we can proceed.”

“Delays?” Annabeth’s accusatory gaze shoots to him, as if he is the one responsible for stopping the train. 

He shrugs, throwing his hands up in surrender. Then, her chest tightens again, much like she felt last night when she first boarded the train. Trapped. Helpless. She’s never liked to describe herself as claustrophobic, as if naming it will make it too real. But so far ignoring it hasn’t stopped it from being true either.

The first time she tried to describe what happened, her doctor called it an anxiety attack. The dizziness in her head, the twisting feeling in her stomach, the heaviness on her chest that always manages to convince her brain, ‘you’re suffocating, you can’t breathe, you’re dying’ even though she isn’t. 

The first and only time she’d visited her dad since he moved, she had only agreed because his girlfriend was going to be gone on a business trip for the long weekend. The entire time, they’d  both tried so hard not to talk about her mom or the divorce that it became the only thing either of them could think about. So dad tried to plan activities that didn’t involve much talking.

She had her first anxiety attack in the public restroom at a beach not far from San Francisco, with the sun beaming down so bright it hurt her eyes, the sand soft and warm. The waves had been crashing gently against her knees when she had the sudden feeling that something bad was happening, that the water was going to swallow her whole. She called out a half assed excuse to him and disappeared into the bathroom for twenty minutes. She wasn’t sure if he noticed she was gone for so long.

Annabeth wasn’t stupid, she was 18 when they got divorced and old enough to see things for what they were, even if her parents were in denial about it. You don’t just spend two semesters away, teaching history at West Point and then come home suddenly saying that you want a divorce for no good reason. And although her mother had refused to offer her an explanation beyond ‘sometimes people grow apart’, Annabeth was old enough to deduce that the answer must’ve been another woman. 

So when she went to visit him, she’d planned to confront him about it as soon as she got into his car outside the airport. Hop into the passenger seat, slam her car door shut, point accusatorily at him and demand to know why he had to ruin their family. 

But when she found him standing at the guest pickup area outside the airport, he looked completely different. He’d grown his beard out, something he’d never even considered before, and he was  starting to gray just enough to begin to pepper through his dark curls. He didn’t look like her father, he looked like a stranger, and at that exact moment, he felt like one too.

It was jarring enough that she’d chickened out of the confrontation. Instead, she made it her mission to spend the next few days studying him, the crinkles in his forehead, the undertone of his voice, searching for any clue to explain what exactly had changed in those few months that he was gone, what changed enough for him to leave.

When he’d gotten the job at West Point the year before the divorce, the three of them had been thrilled about the opportunity for him. But, Annabeth was beginning her senior year of high school and her parents were determined not to uproot her life, so she and her mother stayed behind in Richmond. The plan was to spend the holiday breaks together as a family, and then Annabeth and her mother would move up when she started college.

Instead, her father and his girlfriend moved from West Point to San Francisco one month before her first semester at NYU. The divorce had hurt enough on its own, but it was then that she understood that he didn’t want any memories of his old family floating around. He was starting a new one. 

Now, she stands perfectly still in the middle of this empty corridor, trying to measure her own breathing, her heart beating so loudly in her own ears that it nearly drowns out the sound of Percy asking if she is okay, she’s only jolted back to reality when she feels his hand on her elbow. 

“I have to call someone,” she turns to pull her phone from her pocket, letting out a deep breath to calm her anxiety. She’s already dreading the conversation, and trying to push down the guilt that comes with secretly hoping maybe this will make her miss the wedding after all. 

She can’t even remember the last time she called him, rather than the other way around. It rings for so long that she’s certain she’s about to be sent to voicemail,  then at the last second he picks up. His words are slurred, either by deep sleep, or by alcohol. Considering that the rehearsal dinner was last night, she can’t tell.

“Hey sweetie, what’s up?”

“My train is delayed,” she says. Her tone is short and clipped, even to her own ears, but that’s how most of her interactions sound with him now. 

“What?”

She lets out a heavy sigh, and somewhere deep down, finds the patience to repeat herself: “My train is delayed.”

In the background she can hear Michelle saying something to her father, Annabeth feels a surge of anger bubble up in her chest in response, even though she can’t really explain her disdain for this woman who hasn’t done anything to her yet.

“Well,” her father finally says, “do you think it will be delayed for long?”

“I don’t know,” Annabeth says, rolling her eyes which, thankfully, he can’t see over the phone. "It's stopped because of the weather. The storm is supposed to go all day, but I really don’t know how much it needs to let up before they can start moving again.”

“What time were you supposed to get in?” he says.

“My original ETA was at 6:00—”

“6 in the morning?!” Michelle says in the background.

“No, 6:00 tonight,” Annabeth says, tone dripping with sarcasm, “I’m traveling by rocketship.”

Percy snickers behind her, then clamps his hand over his mouth and turns away from her. 

On the other end of the line, her father takes the call off speaker and presses the phone to his ear. “The wedding starts at noon, Annabeth.”

“Yes. I am aware,” she replies, “let me just go ask the conductor if we can barrel through the trains up ahead and keep going. I’ll let you know what he says.”

“Now, the attitude isn’t nec—”

“I have to go. They’re making another announcement.” With that, she hangs up before he can start an argument. 

When she turns back to Percy, his eyes are studying something on the ceiling,  looking anywhere but at her. He has one finger pressed against his lips, as if he is really concentrating. 

He gives her a weak smile when he glances down to find her staring at him. “Another announcement?” He asks, raising his eyebrows as he echoes the excuse she used to get off the phone with her father. 

“He’s annoying. I can only spend so much time talking to him.”

Percy winces. “He’s freaking out about the delay?”

“Yeah. I was already cutting it close getting in at 6. The ceremony starts at noon.”

He nods sympathetically. “Definitely cutting it close.”

She lets out a heavy sigh, and at this point she doesn’t even want to think about his wedding, let alone talk about it. “So, family thing. You headed to a wedding you’re dreading too?”

He pauses for a moment, then gives a nod, like he can’t decide how he feels about it either.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if it was the same one?” Annabeth jokes. Okay, now she knows the panic induced delirium is really getting to her, because she’s not really the ‘joking with a stranger on a train’ kind of person. 

“It would be pretty funny,” he nods. He looks like he’s trying to force a convincing smile.

She hopes that he knows she was joking. She is obviously well aware that the statistical probability of them heading to the same wedding isn’t even worth considering.

“Yeah.” She averts her eyes. “Anyway, breakfast?”

He perks up as if he’d forgotten that they were on a mission until now, and turns to continue leading her down the corridor. As they pass through the next car, Annabeth takes count of how many of the passengers are starting to wake up. She hopes the line at the cafe won’t be long. 

“Stupid question,” Percy starts. Annabeth assumes that’s the only kind of question he has, but nods for him to continue. “If this event is so time sensitive, why not fly?”

For a half second, she considers telling him the truth. That she’s only been on an airplane twice, and the second time she had a panic attack in the bathroom. She uses the next best excuse, “This is cheaper.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “If your family wants you there so bad, shouldn’t someone at least pay for the plane ticket?”

“I don’t—” she starts, then catches herself getting snippy with a stranger who’s been nothing but nice to her, and takes a breath, “I don’t like to take things from them.”

“Okay…” Percy trails off, like her answer doesn’t make sense. They make their way through the rest of the car in silence.

The cafe line isn’t too long, Annabeth figures the universe must’ve owed her a favor for all this. They get to the front after just a few minutes. Percy orders a diet coke and a breakfast sandwich, she opts for a latte, a water, and a jam filled danish. She can’t tell if they’re supposed to sit at the same table, so she slides into a booth first and lets him decide. 

He lets out a heavy sigh as he drops into the seat across from her, like the day has already exhausted him. She can feel his leg bouncing restlessly under the table and he’s humming something under his breath while he unwraps his food. This guy can’t sit still to save his life.

A few bites into his sandwich, he speaks again. “So what happened?”

“With what?”

“Your family. Why are you so upset about the wedding?”

She thinks on it for a minute, ponders over her response in her head. “Well, my father killed my mom.”

His eyes widen and he pulls away a bit, trying to tell if she’s being serious. She can feel him studying her face for any indication of truth. 

“I’m kidding,” she deadpans, “but imagine how invasive that question would be if that were true.”

He leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing like he is trying to decide how he feels about their exchange. 

Then he breaks out into a grin and nods approvingly, “You’re funny, I like you. What’s your name again?”

She realizes now that she only knows his name because he airdropped her the wifi password, and that he doesn’t know hers, so she politely introduces herself.

“Cool name, Annabeth. I’m Percy.”

She nods as if she doesn't already know that. “Nice to meet you.” She isn’t sure yet if she means it or not. So far he’s bordering between friendly and annoying.

“You a big fan of pastries?” Percy asks around a mouthful of English muffin, nodding to her breakfast of choice. 

She simply stares at him in response, dumbfounded at the question. 

He shrugs innocently, “What? You don't like personal questions, now I’m just trying to make small talk.”

“‘Are you a big fan of pastries’ is your idea of small talk?”

A clap of thunder outside makes them both jump. They find each other’s gaze immediately and then start to laugh. Maybe at themselves, or maybe at each other, Annabeth isn’t sure. She is sure that they’re having a decent breakfast, and decides that maybe he isn’t so awful when he’s not asking stupid questions.

“I might be irrationally afraid of thunderstorms,” he admits. Another attempt at small talk, this one more successful. 

“Really? What about them?” Annabeth asks. 

He gives her a funny look, tilting his head to one side. “I don’t really know, I think that’s what makes it irrational.”

“Right…” she says, her voice short, “I guess that’s fair.”

“What are you afraid of?” he asks, taking another bite of his sandwich. 

She mulls the question over in her head before answering. “Why do you wanna know?”

“God, Annabeth,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face in exasperation. “I’m just curious, I’m not out to get you. You know, you’re really bad at this making friends thing?”

“Well, that would explain a lot.” 

He pauses for a minute, studying her, and then evidently decides not to press about what she means, and she is grateful that she doesn’t have to explain that she has apparently been unlikable all her life. 

“So are you gonna answer the question?”

“Small spaces. Spiders.” That’s it. No explanation, just the simple answer he asked for. 

“See? was that so hard?” he teases. 

She only glares in response.

He jokes about a funny shaped mountain —one that he swears looks a bit too phallic— the entire way back to their seats. Upon their return, they sit in silence, Annabeth reads her book and Percy plays a game on his phone. Neither of them puts their headphones in, but they don’t speak either.

Everyone in their car claps and cheers when the conductor comes over the speaker to announce that they would be resuming travel shortly. The lightning has stopped at least, and the torrential downpour has slowed to a consistent rainfall.

“I guess the storm does seem like it’s letting up a bit,” Annabeth says, craning her neck to look out the window. 

“Do you want to switch seats?” Percy asks, blurting it out as if the thought just occurred to him. He stares at her for what feels like forever, waiting for an answer. 

“Uh… why?” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know, you just seem way more interested in the scenery than me.”

She pauses to consider this, taking the sincerity of his offer to heart. He’d caught on to her staring out the window, taking note of her curious glances towards the horizon. She didn’t realize it had been so frequent and obvious enough that he actually noticed it.

“You don’t have to…” she trails off, but he’s already gathering his stuff into his arms before she’s even finished with her thought. He nods for her to scoot over, so she does. He even reaches under the seats to scoot her tote bag over so she can still reach it.

“Thank you,” Annabeth says sheepishly. 

“It was really just part of my ploy to get the aisle seat,” he jokes as he settles in. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” she sighs.

“Do you feel claustrophobic on the train?” Percy asks. 

She begins to feel guilty at how annoying she’s finding his attempts to make small talk. 

“A little I guess. It was worse when it was stopped. Then it really felt like I was trapped,” she explains.

The entire time they had been stationary on the tracks she had to consciously push away the reminder that she couldn’t get off the train. She was trapped in a big metal tube with nowhere to go, stopped in the middle of what looked like a neverending forest on all sides of them. 

“I feel that way about planes,” Percy shrugs. She still doesn’t tell him about the plane anxiety attack that has ruled out air travel for the rest of her life. 

“You know, my dad used to tell me to just think about the sky. He always had me focus on how open and unrestricted the sky is, how big the world is. Something about it helped.”

“That’s cool. I like that,” he nods. 

Then they fall quiet again, Percy taps away at some game on his phone while she watches the scenery pass by until the train slows to a halt at the station. The speaker crackles as the conductor’s voice starts to come through.

“This is the Buffalo stop, folks. If you are getting off at Buffalo, please collect your things and proceed to one of the two marked exits at the front and back of your car.”

A couple of people stand up, grab their things from the overhead shelving, and fumble towards the exits. There are quite a few empty seats left, for a moment Annabeth considers standing and moving to one of the now empty rows before a new group of passengers boards. She wonders if Percy is considering the same thing, but he doesn't even glance up from his phone. 

She decides to stay seated. Besides, her things are already on the shelf above this row, her tote is already shoved under her seat, the smaller bag they allowed her to bring on as a ‘personal item’. 

Some time around the middle of the afternoon, the rain starts to let up completely, the clouds begin to clear from the sky, some sunlight even starts to shine through the windows.

Percy has his headphones on again and has spent the last 2 hours watching something on his phone. She tries her best not to be nosey or intrusive, but she does allow herself one quick glance at whatever he’s watching. It looks to be a movie, not something she recognizes. Then again, she hasn’t seen very many movies anyways.

Another hour or so passes, enough time at least for him to finish his movie. She concentrates on her book as he taps annoyingly on his phone screen. She tries so hard to ignore it that it becomes all she can focus on. Tap, tap, tap.

He must feel her agitation, because he puts it away. Much to her dismay, he turns to her instead, clearly bored of whatever he’d been doing. “You think you’re gonna make the wedding?"

She scoffs, “God I hope not.”

There’s a long pause before she begrudgingly asks what time his wedding starts. She’s not particularly interested in the answer, but she knows that’s what she’s supposed to ask in these situations. Social norms, and all that. 

“I gotta be at the church at 2,” he responds.

She shrugs. “So you should be fine.”

“I should indeed,” he nods in agreement. Then, he excuses himself to the bathroom.

Annabeth’s felt a tension headache coming on at the base of her skull since about noon, and no matter how much she tries to ignore it, it persists. Clearly the dread is weighing on her more than she’d expected it to. 

She’s been trying to forget about this weekend for months. And it isn’t even just the wedding, really, it’s seeing her father again, it’s meeting Michelle, her kids, and trying to pretend she likes them. 

This weekend marks the official end of their family. And she’s not a kid, she knows there was never a possibility of her parents getting back together. The truth is, she doesn't even want that. Her mom seems better off now, she’s dating some guy she met through her book club, and she’s smiling more these days. Plus Annabeth can hardly stand to speak to her father, let alone want him around her again after this. 

But what she does or doesn’t want really doesn’t factor in here. This weekend has come anyways, even without her permission. 

“He’s your father, Annabeth. It’s just a few days. He wants you at his wedding, he’s not asking for much.” Mom had spent the last few weeks telling her. 

But it seems— to Annabeth at least— that he is asking for a lot. In fact, all he seems to do anymore is ask. He asks for forgiveness, asks her to come visit, asks her to give Michelle a chance. He asks, and he asks, and he asks and never gives back anything in return. 

Sometimes she just wants to shake mom by her shoulders, begging her to be as angry as Annabeth is.

“He broke our trust! He broke your heart! He broke our family and now he’s going to marry this woman because none of it matters, because he decided starting over is easier than trying to put his family back together again.” Is what she would scream at her if given the chance. 

But mom keeps insisting they’re better off this way. That all three of them are better off. But it’s hard to believe, and she has been infuriatingly levelheaded and mature about this whole thing. 

Annabeth can’t unremember the first few weeks after Christmas, when she’d wake up in the middle of the night and hear mom crying in the other room. For a few days, she refused to even speak about dad so Annabeth stopped trying to bring it up, then some weeks later she was completely rational about the whole thing. Even now it still feels strange.

They’d argued the entire way to the train station. Mom reminded her yet again that this is important to dad, that she needs to be polite at the wedding, that she needs to be polite to Michelle.

Annabeth had, admittedly, reacted rashly and immaturely. 

“It’ll be fine,” mom said.

Annabeth yanked her suitcase from the back seat, stuffing her hoodie into it. “Well, it’ll be your fault if anything happens.”

“Like what?” Mom asked. 

And Annabeth, full of frustration and contempt, responded “Like… if the train crashes or something. Runs right off the tracks. Then you’ll have managed to lose both of us.”

“Annabeth—“

Annabeth slammed the car door shut anyway.

Replaying the events in her mind makes her stomach churn with embarrassment and regret. She isn’t a superstitious person, she never has been, but some small part of her in the back of her mind says what if I jinxed it?

She’s considering trying to call mom to apologize when Percy returns to his seat. For a second, she thinks she recognizes the same stress and worry that she feels right now, mirrored in his own expression. But when he sits down again he’s relaxed as ever. 

He fidgets in his seat, digging through his pockets until he pulls out a piece of butterscotch candy, the wrapper covered in lint. He generously offers it to her first, then pops it into his mouth when she declines.

“How old is that thing?” she asks, side eyeing him from her seat. She can’t help but wonder if it tastes like laundry detergent, because it looks like it’s been through a few washes.

“Ancient, probably, but hard candy doesn’t expire, I think.” He shrugs, clearly deciding it doesn’t matter anyway. “I might have another in there if you’ve changed your mind.”

“I really haven’t.”

He sighs as he settles back in. “Suit yourself.”

Another 3 hours pass before they speak again. Annabeth pushes her laptop away on the table and sits back in her seat with a heavy sigh. 

Percy glances over at her. “What are you studying, anyway?”

She side eyes him again. “Architecture. With a minor in statistics.”

“Like buildings?”

“No, like dinosaurs,” she shoots him a dumb look. So far, she hasn't been able to decide if she likes him or just finds him annoying. After a long pause, she asks another question she knows she's supposed to ask in return. “What are you studying?”

“Psychology, with a minor in art.” He says, mocking her tone from before. Another point in the ‘annoying’ column.

“Is this your idea of playing mind games then? Mocking me?”

He sighs, and then leans in close like he’s telling her a secret. “Actually, I’ve been trying to use my Jedi mind powers to convince that guy in front of us to give me his Kit Kat. I’m not supposed to tell people any of this, per the government’s orders, but since you’ve been so nice, I won’t even kill you.”

“Gee, thanks.” Annabeth rolls her eyes, unamused.

The train slows to a stop about 2 hours later. Percy stands, pulls his things from the overhead shelving, and then looks at Annabeth, who is standing up herself.

“Are you switching trains too?” he asks.

“Yeah.” She nods. 

Without asking, he reaches up and pulls her duffle bag down too, and hands it off to her. She grabs the strap of it, and then they awkwardly untangle their hands as he pulls his away. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be hopping on the 6:00 one to Chicago?” He asks over his shoulder as they both move towards the exit.

“That’s exactly where I’m headed,” she sighs. But somewhere far in the back of her mind, a teeny tiny very small part of her feels relieved at the fact that she’ll at least know someone on board. It doesn't feel quite as daunting anymore, maybe she won’t even have to sit by a stranger. 

She follows him through the station, trying to keep up with his stupid blonde head as he leads the way. Every few seconds he glances over his shoulder to see if she’s still there, seems to remember that he has much longer legs than her, and slows his pace so she can keep up. 

They don't speak until they make it to the platform. Then he turns to her and says “So, do you like the train so far?”

She’s still out of breath from fighting through the crowd at Union Station, and wrinkles her face at him in confusion. “Do I like the train? What kind of dumb question is that?” 

“It is just a question Annabeth, jeez,” He says. For the first time, it seems that she’s actually hurt his feelings a little. He’s leaning forward to see the board when they hear a train approaching. “I think that’s ours.”

She felt guilty about snapping at him as soon as the words left her mouth. She did it to her mom as she dropped her off, now she’s doing it to this stranger who’s been nothing but nice to her over the last day and a half. And as much as she hates to admit it, he’s made the ride less awful so far.

The train is already packed from the stop before, but he gestures to an aisle seat as they pass by, and he takes the one across from it for himself. After he shoves his backpack onto the overhead shelving, he turns and holds his hand out for hers. The guilt in her stomach only weighs her down more. She snapped at him and he’s still being so nice. 

She glances across the aisle at him from her own seat. To her surprise, he’s already looking at her, but he glances away when she catches him. 

When the rest of the passengers are finished boarding, she tugs on his sleeve to get his attention again. He taps the screen to pause whatever he’s been watching and turns to her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, as quietly as she can to not disturb the people around them. 

“Huh?” He makes a face.

“I said,” she clears her throat, speaking up a little this time, “I’m sorry. I was mean on the platform and I’m sorry.”

The corner of his mouth twitches up in a smile he is trying to suppress. “I heard you the first time, just wanted to hear it again.”

She reaches across the aisle and whacks his arm.

“I thought we weren’t being mean anymore?” he laughs, holding his arm for effect.

“I changed my mind,” she says, but she’s laughing too. 

He scribbles something on the napkin he got with his meal before and holds it out across the aisle to her. 

She narrows her eyes at him, like she can’t decide if this is a trap. But she reaches out to grab anyway. His handwriting is messy, barely legible, really. 

the guy next to me smells like old milk :(

She has to bite back the laugh that threatens to bubble out. He frowns at her when she looks over at him. She scribbles down a brief reply.

that’s unfortonate. the sweet old lady next to me smells like roses.

She passes it back to him. Upon reading it, he glances up at her, and flattens the napkin back out to write on it again. 

idk how to spell unfortinate but yours def doesn’t look right either.

Her jaw drops when she reads it, and she has to fight the urge to reach across the aisle and hit him again. 

fuck you i’m dyslexic

He is way too excited to scribble down his reply. 

omg me too

She makes a show of rolling her eyes at him, and then puts her headphones in and shoves the napkin into her pocket. 

About an hour later, he nudges her shoulder and rubs his belly. A silent way of asking if she’s hungry too. She thinks about it for a moment, and then agrees that it’s about dinner time anyways.

He stands first, leading the way on their hunt for the cafe car. The line is longer this time, and all of the tables are occupied. Annabeth orders a grilled cheese, he orders a turkey sandwich, and they make their way back to their seats, careful not to spill their food. 

She’d sighed when the attendant at the counter placed a bag of Doritos on her tray, apologetically telling her it was all they had left tonight. A few bites into her grilled cheese, she remembers that Percy had been eating them when he helped her with her bags the first time. And she isn’t going to eat them, so… better they not go waste.

Annabeth reaches across the aisle and smacks his arm again, softer this time, just to get his attention. He turns to look at her, and she holds the bag of chips up, raising her eyebrows to ask if he wants them.

He makes a big show of glancing around, and then pointing to himself as he turns back. Who, me?

She rolls her eyes and tosses him the bag. He makes a heart with his hands and holds it up for her to see. She rolls her eyes harder this time.

“Oh my,” the sweet old lady beside Annabeth speaks up, eyes darting between the two of them as they both turn to look at her. “I didn't realize you two were together! Here young man, we can switch seats, you should sit with each other.”

Annabeth starts to shake her head no, intending to correct the woman. They are not together and, in fact, hardly know each other. 

But Percy places a hand over his heart. “You’re so sweet, thank you so much,” he says quietly, standing up as the older lady shuffles past him. He gestures for Annabeth to scoot to the window seat as he drops into the aisle seat beside her.

“So, where did you two meet?” the old lady across the aisle looks at them expectantly.

Percy and Annabeth exchange a quick glance, like neither of them were expecting her to ask a follow up question.

“Believe it or not,” Percy says, “it was actually on a train.”

“Oh how wonderful!” she responds, softly clapping her hands together. “And how did it happen?”

Annabeth is still at a loss for words when Percy places his hand over hers and glances pointedly at her. She hardly hears whatever he says next, too focused on how warm and heavy his hand feels. 

“Well, I was being quite gentlemanly actually and offered to help with her bags.” He sits up a bit taller in his seat. “And one thing led to another and… well, here we are.”

“Yes, here we are,” Annabeth smiles and tries not to snatch her hand away from his. She rarely lets her family hug her, it’s taking everything in her not to recoil when this stranger holds her hand. 

“You know, my husband and I were together for fifty two years!” 

“Fifty two? That’s incredible," Percy says, his hand still on hers, much to her dismay. But she has to admit, he is giving an impressive performance.

“When you’re with the right person, fifty two years can feel like fifty two seconds.” Then she gestures between the two of them. “Time flies by and before you know it you’re my age. Cherish every moment you two have together.” 

Annabeth’s stomach sinks. But Percy, again, answers for both of them, “That’s beautiful, thank you.”

The old woman grins, delighted. But she seems satisfied with their performance and turns back to her novel. 

Annabeth pulls her hand away from his and shoots him a questioning look. He leans in close, gesturing for her to lean in too, and mutters “I couldn’t sit next to the milk man the entire time.”

She has to clamp her hand over her own mouth to keep from laughing. 

He gives the older lady a glance to ensure she really is lost in her book now, and then turns back to Annabeth. “You gotta admit, 52 years is impressive.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You don’t think a 52 year marriage is impressive?” he asks, clearly bewildered.

“I really don’t find marriage in general that impressive, honestly.”

Percy stares at her for a moment before responding. “Aren’t you literally on your way to a wedding?"

“Yeah, doesn’t mean I don’t think it’s stupid. Like, it shouldn’t be this huge fuss where you drag everyone away from their own lives just to come watch you walk down an aisle and recite some vows you probably don’t even mean.” 

“Woah,” he recoils as if she’d hit him, “I think they’re kinda nice.”

She shakes her head, now determined to die on this hill. “They’re not. They’re really all for show. Just a big spectacle that says ‘look at me! Look how in love I am!’. Marriage should mean something.”

“I think it does,” he replies after a moment of careful consideration.

“I’m just saying, all marriage should be about is a promise, that you’ll still stick together and you’ll be there when everything else sucks.”

“Marriage: for when everything else sucks.”

Annabeth blinks, not seeing the issue. “Yeah, basically.”

“So that’s all a marriage is? Sometimes to hold your hand when things are rough?”

Annabeth shrugs. 

He stares thoughtfully at her for a moment. “So, whose wedding are you going to? Like an ex boyfriend or something?”

She can’t help the laugh that escapes her. “My dad.”

“Ah, it makes sense now. I thought you seemed a little young for a woman scorned.” He says, tapping on his chin like he’s thinking really hard. 

“I’m twenty one,” she says.

“Me too! First the dyslexia, now this, we’re basically the same person.”

“Right…” she trails off, “I’m gonna try to fall asleep now.”

“Good plan. I’ll keep watch,” Percy nods.

“I don’t think… you know what? Yeah, thanks Percy.” She smiles as she reclines her seat back as far as it will go (which isn’t very far).

“I was kidding,” he laughs, “but goodnight, Annabeth.” He clicks their overhead light off and pulls his hood down over his eyes, the same way he had last night. 

One by one, the other passengers click theirs off too. Considering how tired she felt earlier, Annabeth thought sleep would come quickly. She lays there for what feels like hours before she opens her eyes and pulls her phone out. Apparently Percy had the same idea. 

“Can’t sleep either?” she whispers. 

He still has his hood up and clears his throat before he speaks, and it is only then, in the light from his phone screen, that she notices the red tinge around his eyes. “Yeah, turns out sleeping on a train is hard.”

She remembers waking up the night before to see him still awake. She’d thought nothing of it. Now, she pauses before she speaks, trying to decide if it’s her place to ask, or if she should pretend she doesn't notice that he’d been crying. 

Then, she decides that if it were the other way around, Percy would ask. Because that’s the kind of person he seems to be. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he shakes his head like he’s trying to shake whatever is upsetting him out of his brain. “Honestly I’m just exhausted. And I miss my mom. Which is lame for an adult, but I do.”

Her heart twists in her chest, because she understands. She and her mom are close too, and she hadn’t left things on good terms with her. “Is she going to be at the wedding?" 

He presses the bottoms of his palms into his eyes, then pulls them away and nods. “Yeah, she had to work but she’s flying out tomorrow night to meet me there.”

“That’s good,” she says softly. She can’t tell if this is comforting or not. She doesn't feel like she’s being very comforting. 

He pulls his hood down further over his face and leans back again, clearly giving sleep a second attempt. Before she can overthink about it, she softly places one hand on top of his and gives it a light squeeze. 

She thinks she catches a small smile under his hood, and he brushes his thumb over her fingers and gives hers a quick squeeze back. She lingers there for a second before pulling her hand away, trying to ignore the feeling in her chest.

When she wakes up in the morning, his seat is empty. For a moment, she’s concerned. But she knows he can’t have gone far on the train, and besides, he isn’t her responsibility to worry about.

Percy returns a few minutes later with his hands full. He holds one hand out to her as he approaches. In it is a danish and a bottle of orange juice. 

“Oh…” She pauses, unsure how to react as he settles into his seat with his own breakfast.

“I wasn't sure what kind of juice you like so I guessed. But I was starving and I felt bad going without you cause I knew you’d probably be hungry when you woke up, and I didn’t think you’d wanna go alone,” he shrugs nonchalantly. 

“That’s really nice, thank you,” she says. And he’s right, she is starving and she doesn't want to go to the cafe car alone. “I think I have some cash in my bag.” She reaches down to pull out the tote bag she’d shoved under the seat.

He just waves her away. “It’s like $7. I’m not making you pay me back for $7.”

“Oh… well, thank you again. I appreciate it.”

She hesitantly cracks the juice open as if she doesn't trust it. The truth is that she feels… uncomfortable that he’d done something so nice. For reasons she doesn’t know how to explain, she’s hated when people did things like that for as long as she could remember. Briefly she wonders what Mister Psychology Major would think about that, but she doesn’t ask.

But he clearly doesn't think twice about the gesture as he scrolls on his phone. They eat their breakfast in silence, one that Annabeth thinks is awkward, and that Percy doesn't even notice. 

Just as they finish their breakfast, a fly appears on the seat in front of them. Annabeth tries to shoo it away, but it just loops back around.

“Hey, I bet he bought a ticket too,” Percy argues.

“There’s no empty seats. He’s probably just a stowaway.”

“Imagine being a fly…” he trails off.

She narrows her eyes at him in confusion. “What?”

“He probably doesn’t even realize he’s going to end up on the other side of the country. He’s going to fly out and be so confused. Can you imagine?”

“Do you think he thinks he’s flying really fast?” Annabeth asks.

“He’s probably so psyched to be making such good time. Maybe he has places to be.” He nudges her with his elbow.

“Oh, I’m sure he does.”

They don't speak again for a few hours, not until Annabeth closes her laptop with a heavy sigh, once again giving up on her paper. She feels Percy give her a sideways glance and then he shoves his phone into his pocket.

She turns to look at him, her head still resting in the hand that’s propped on the arm rest. “You wanna see something cool?” he asks.

Her eyes narrow in suspicion, a wordless ‘should I trust you?’

“Come on,” he says as he stands. He urges her to follow with a wave of his hand, and begrudgingly she does.

He walks towards the back of the car, the opposite direction to the cafe, apologizing for bumping into people’s seats along the way. Then they make their way through yet another car and at the back of that one, he turns to look at her. 

“Okay, so this is a really new train. It’s way nicer, way more updated than the one we were on yesterday. I heard someone talking about this in line for breakfast this morning.”

“Where are you going with this? Are you gonna throw me on the tracks?” she asks.

He scoffs. “If I was gonna do that, why would I give you a disclaimer first?”

“That’s fair.”

With that, he turns and slides the last door open. The last car features dome shapes floor to ceiling windows and small cushioned benches facing outwards. 

He holds his hands up as if presenting the view. “Behold, the observation car.” 

“This is really cool,” Annabeth says. Her eyes dart all around the room, from the scenery outside the windows and back to the cushioned seating. 

She makes her way to the last bench that's still empty, the one right near the door, and sits down. Percy lingers behind her, leaning against the back of the seat. “We’re gonna be passing the Mississippi river soon, so I thought you’d wanna see it.”

Just like last night, there’s that same feeling in her chest. She scowls and turns around to look up at him. “Why are you just standing there being awkward?”

“Oh!” He steps back as if the bench suddenly burned him, but then moves to sit beside her. “I didn't know if you’d just wanna enjoy the scenery in peace or…”

She shoots him that same dumb look she’s found herself making a lot these last couple days. “Don’t be a weirdo.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I was fully prepared to go back to my seat and let you do your thing. You know, stare out the window and brood or whatever.”

“I wasn’t brooding,” Annabeth rolls her eyes. “And if you have somewhere better to be, don’t let me keep you from it.”

He bites his bottom lip hard, trying to hold back a smile. “I don’t.”

“Right.”

For a moment, they just look at each other. Annabeth looks away first, and they both stifle laughs. Then they sit in silence, Annabeth watching the midwestern plains roll by, Percy quietly scrolling on his phone. Occasionally he glances up at her, sometimes out the window, but mostly he scrolls.

“Oh, we’re coming up on the river!” Annabeth hisses, excitedly smacking him on the arm. 

He laughs, but he leans forward too. As he does, he moves closer. Maybe it’s an accident, maybe he doesn't even notice he’d done it. But Annabeth becomes annoyingly aware of his leg pressing against hers. 

“That is really cool,” he says, finally snapping her focus back to the view outside the window. 

“Very,” she agrees.

The train slows to a stop in St. Louis right after crossing over the river, and Annabeth turns to look at him again. “We should probably go back to our seats before someone thinks they’re vacant.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Percy agrees. 

After they both settle back into their seats, Percy begins riffling through his backpack for a bag of Sour Patch Kids he swears is in there somewhere. 

He hands Annabeth another t-shirt as he continues to dig. The pile of his things on her lap is rapidly growing. He places a book on top before he finds the candy underneath a ziploc bag full of smushed granola bars. 

She grabs the book off the pile but lets him shove everything else back in. “‘Our Mutual Friend?’, I didn’t take you for a Dickens person,” she laughs.

His cheeks redden a bit as he shakes his head. “Oh, I’ve never read it.”

“You should,” Annabeth shrugs, “it’s good.”

“So I’ve heard,” Percy nods. He doesn't reach for it back, instead he just lingers on the cover.  His eyes look like they’re somewhere far away. 

She flips through the pages, yellowed and dog eared and well worn. “Well someone’s read it.”

“My dad gave it to me, I’m bringing it back to him.”

“Without having read it?” She gives him a strange look. 

“Without having read it,” he nods.

She continues flipping through the words and sentences she’s read so many times. Something bright catches her eye, and she thumbs back through to see the highlighted line in the middle of the page. 

“That’s so cool that he marked things for you,” Annabeth says, peering down at it.

“Oh, I didn’t…” Percy leans over to look at it. 

She glances up, his face so close to hers that she could’ve counted the ghosts of freckles that had probably faded as he aged. His expression, however, is unreadable. 

And suddenly she feels like she is intruding, so she passes the book back to him. But she knows the line that is highlighted, it’s one of her favorites. “Is it better to have had a good thing and lost it, or never to have had it?”

He studies it long and hard for a moment, like he’s rereading the sentence over and over in his head until it means something, and then snaps the book shut and puts it back into his bag.

This is the first time she’s seen him stare out the window for more than 60 seconds. He looks deep in thought about something important, but she still can’t discern the look on his face. 

She scrolls quietly on her phone until he excuses himself to the bathroom. While he’s gone, she goes back and forth in her head on whether she should ask about his relationship with his father or not, is their relationship strained too? Is that whose wedding he is going to? Were the two of them in the same boat with their daddy issues?

By the time he returns, she’s decided not to ask about it. They’d known each other for 48 hours and she’s already trying to deep dive into his relationship with his parents, which she knows from experience can be complicated and exhausting.

He shifts in his seat at some point and accidentally kicks her tote bag beneath them. “Oh, my bad.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she sighs, “just my stupid bridesmaids dress.”

“You’re a bridesmaid? That’s so nice.”

She gives him a look. “It’s horrible. I’m a bridesmaid. A bridesmaid.”

“Why’s it horrible?”

“Because… it’s a long story,” she sighs.

“We’ve got,” he checks his watch for emphasis, “4 hours til Denver.”

She groans and flops back in her seat. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” 

“No it’s not that,” she sits back up, letting out a heavy sigh in the process. “It’s her. Michelle. I don’t like her, I’ve never even met her. Why do I have to be at their wedding?"

“You’ve never met her?” Percy asks, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Never.”

“So I take it you and your dad aren’t very close?”

“We used to be.” 

He pauses for a second, waits for her to elaborate. When she doesn't, he asks “And then…?”

“And then he moved across the country with some woman he met at work. My mom and I stayed in New York. Easier to avoid us, you know?” she says, very matter of factly.

“I take it your parents were not divorced when he met this woman then?”

“Nope, the divorce came after.”

Percy shook his head. “Well that’s shitty.”

“Very.” Annabeth agrees. It isn’t even a powerful enough word to capture how shitty the whole thing had been.

“That must’ve been hard,” he continues. 

“It sucks. My mom cried a lot at first, then one day she just… stopped." Her words trail off along with her thoughts, remembering all too well just how shitty it all was.

“Strong lady,” Percy says. 

“She bounced back quicker than I did, that’s for sure. I’m still working on it,” she says, half poking fun at herself.

“How’d she bounce back from something like that? I can’t imagine how awful that must’ve felt.”

“I guess she really believes they’re better off this way, that things were meant to work out like this. She’s with someone new, he’s with someone new, they’re both happier. It’s just me who hates it all. Especially meeting his someone new.”

“And she’s not so new anymore.”

“And there lies the problem. How am I supposed to walk in there and look this woman in the eye, to be nice to her? She knows I’ve spent the last 4 years refusing to come visit because I don’t want to meet her.”

Percy thinks about it for a moment, mulls over the situation in his head. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s brave.”

“What?”

“That you’re going. I think it’s brave.”

She lets out a dry laugh. “It doesn’t feel that brave.”

“Well that’s because you’re in the middle of it. But you’ll see one day, and then you’ll say ‘hey that weird guy on the train that one time is right’.” he jokes.

“We’ll see about that,” she mumbles. 

“You will.”

“And what about you?” she looks over at him.

“What about me?” he asks.

“I guess you’re not dreading yours as much as I am.”

He shrugs. “Don’t be so sure.”

She leans forward just a little, studying his expression. His face wrinkles in confusion, and then she sits back again. “Well, are your parents together?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “but they never were.” After seeing the look on her face, he continues, “I was a one-night-stand baby. An accident, if you will.”

“Oh…”

“No, don't be sad.” He playfully swats her knee with his hand. “My mom loves me so very much, she reminds me constantly. But we really are very close. And my dad kept in touch, I’d go visit for a month in the summer usually.”

“That’s nice. Your mom’s coming to his wedding?" she asks.

He lets out a heavy sigh, one that almost comes out more like a groan than anything else. “You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

“I just told you all about how my dad destroyed our family for another woman and now you’re gonna hold out on me?”

“My life’s really not that interesting, I promise.”

She stares at him for one long, silent moment. 

“Okay, fine. I mean, they were never together. No breakup, no love lost. They stayed in touch for my sake, they’re friendly.” He shrugs, rushing through the explanation like it doesn't matter. “Does your dad know you hate this woman?”

“He knows I’m angry,” she explains. “But we’re not talking about me, remember?”

“I just find it interesting,” he shrugs. “That you’re so… unafraid to talk about it. My family doesn’t do that, so I guess I don’t really do it either.”

“Maybe you should,” she says, looking up at him. 

He doesn't look away. “Maybe I should,” he agrees quietly. 

Suddenly Annabeth realizes they’ve been whispering, and both must’ve subconsciously leaned in over the course of their conversation. She’s close enough to see the small scar underneath his eye, the ghost of a beard along his jawline, the infuriating length of his eyelashes. Why do guys always have the best eyelashes? They don’t need those!

Without even really meaning to, she jumps back. The sudden movement startles them both and they blurt out fumbled apologies at the same time. 

There is one long, awkward silence, until Percy clears his throat uncomfortably. “This is a long train ride,” he says, “you wish you would’ve just faced your fear and flown yet?”

“Absolutely not,” Annabeth shakes her head, “I’d have to be sedated and dragged onto a plane.”

He lets out a small laugh. “Didn't realize it was so serious.”

“Oh it’s serious.”

They both fall quiet again before Percy says, “I was scared of the dark when I was younger. Like, up until I was almost 12 or 13.”

Annabeth glances over, not sure what to say. Somehow his face looks more boyish now, less angular, eyes bigger and rounder. She has the strangest urge to put her hand over his like she did last night, but she refrains.

“My dad hated it when I came to visit. He’d grumble under his breath every time I asked him to leave the hallway light outside my bedroom on.”

“Parents don’t always understand, or even try to. Like they forget what it is like to be a kid,” Annabeth says quietly.

He nods slowly. “There is this one night though, I woke up to him plugging in a night light next to the door. I don’t think he realized I woke up, cause he wouldn’t be caught dead doing something like that. He just plugged it in, flipped the little switch on, and left.”

“That’s sweet that he came around,” she smiles.

“In his own way, yeah I guess he did. It’s just funny, like he obviously went and bought it earlier in the day, he could’ve just given it to me. But couldn’t just give it to me, or plug it in for me. He had to do it when nobody was watching, and then we never talked about it.”

She looks up at him again, and finds herself struck by how sad he looks. 

“I’m not sure why I told you that,” he wrinkles his eyebrows, like even he couldn’t believe the words that had come out. 

She shrugs and nudges him with her elbow. “Cause I asked.”

He draws in a heavy, ragged breath and Annabeth can’t help but see the flush on his cheeks. 

She hasn’t noticed until now the low, constant grumble of the train. There’s quiet chatter around the car, but mostly people just keep to themselves, many traveling alone. Her mind wanders to her mother, to the awful things she said before she dropped her off at the station. And the fact she still hasn’t called her.

She’s really not sure why, like she’s afraid her mother will be too angry with her to answer. Her mother isn’t even an angry person.

Beside her, Percy rubs hard at his eyes. “We should probably eat something before we switch trains, huh? That is, assuming, you’re getting on the…”

“The 6:30 train to San Francisco? Yeah,” she nods. The corners of his mouth twitch up with the hint of a smile, and much to her surprise, she smiles too at the idea their adventure isn’t quite over yet.

She finds herself wondering if they’ll be friends after this. If they’ll text one another, if they’ll hang out between school breaks when he’s home in New York, if her mom will insist on meeting him first. Or, if they’ll go their separate ways at the train station and never think of each other again. 

He lets out a tired groan as he pulls himself to his feet. She follows suit and they make their way to the cafe car. He orders a vodka rebull and a water with his food, which she wasn’t expecting.

When they get to the table, she raises her eyebrows at him, nodding towards the drink. “I stress you out that much?”

“Nah,” he waves her off, “too much talking about my family. Let’s swear off speaking about our parents for the next few hours.”

“Fair enough. I’m more than happy to agree to that,” she holds up her diet coke in solidarity and then clink their drinks against each other.

They get back to their seats just as an announcement comes over the speaker to let them know they’re approaching the Denver stop. Like last time, Percy pulls his things down and then hers, and they shuffle out of the train. 

Right away, the train station is pure insanity. 

“I would’ve thought Union Station would’ve been busier than this,” she says as they walk down the platform. It looks like a mall on Christmas eve. 

He turns back to look at her, “Me too.”

He pulls the door open and they descend into the station, where the madness only worsens. She finds herself especially thankful that he is with her, because she’s having a really hard time seeing through the crowd. His eye quickly dart around the station, reading the screens and trying to find the platform their train will be arriving at. 

His face lights up when he spots it, and then he nods in the direction they need to go. Directly through the most congested part of the station. They exchange a glance, and he holds his hand out for her to grab.

“Ready?” he asks.

She shrugs. And then they begin a chorus of “excuse me, I’m so sorry” as she clutches his hand for dear life. All she can think about is that it’s warm and steady and he didn’t just grab her hand, but laced his fingers through hers. It makes her dizzy and she’s trying really hard to pretend that it doesn't.

The congestion only eases up a little once they reach their platform. His hand tightens around hers as people continue to pack on. He pulls her closer without thinking when everyone starts to push, and they quickly find themselves pressed together as a small family squeezes past. 

Their hands are still laced together, his free one comes down to rest on her shoulder as a woman with a comically large suitcase bumps against Annabeth with it. She chokes out an apology to him but it comes out muffled by his hoodie. 

“No, you’re fine,” he assures her. 

The crowd starts to ease up as people settle onto the platform, and she’s able to take a step back. Percy glances around and cranes his neck to see the screen above their heads. 

“It should be here in 3 minutes,” he says.

“Thank god,” Annabeth lets out a breath.

She waits for him to let go of her hand, but then he doesn't. And she doesn't pull away either, worried the crowd is going to push them onto the train the same way they had on the platform. 

So they stand, hand in hand, until the train rattles up. The doors slide open and although it is less chaotic than she expects, she’s still grateful he didn’t let go.

He pulls her through a few cars, all the way up to a less crowded one near the front. She’s relieved to see an empty row to their left. It’s only then that Percy seems to realize their hands are still intertwined, because he quickly lets go and sheepishly waves her into the window seat again.

They both let out a heavy breath as they slump into their seats.

“That was horrible,” Annabeth says.

“Horrible,” Percy echos. Then he turns to look at her, “Thank god you were there to lead us through that.”

She rolls her eyes and smacks him on the arm. “Maybe I could’ve, but you just kept pulling so I had no choice but to go along with it.”

“Are you aware of how much you roll your eyes?” He asks, but the amusement is evident in his voice. 

“What are you, keeping count?” She stares him down, a challenge to answer the question she’d asked half as a joke. 

But then he gives her a lopsided smirk and shrugs. “Maybe I am.”

She doesn't know what to think of that. Only that it makes her skin tingle.

“What’s the verdict?” He asks, glancing down at his watch. “You gonna make the ceremony on time?”

She groans. Truthfully she doesn't even want to think about it. Selfishly she hopes that maybe she’ll still miss it. Unfortunately it’s looking like she’ll be just in time. 

“I think so. I’m hoping it won’t take forever to get an Uber so I can just go straight to the church.” A half lie. She won’t mind if it takes 8 hours to get an Uber, she won’t mind if it never comes at all.

“Is it far?”

She isn’t sure, admittedly she should’ve mapped this out beforehand. It’s unlike her to not have this done, but she’d planned to do it on the train and got so swept up in everything else that it totally slipped her mind. 

“The invitation says that the reception will be held at the Westin St. Francis hotel.” She turns the paper so that he can see the loopy calligraphy carefully scrawled across the page.

He lets out a low whistle, “If that’s the place I’m thinking of, pretty swanky.”

“You’re familiar with it? Do you know if it’s close to the station?” Annabeth asks.

“I don’t think so really, but if it doesn’t take you forever to get that Uber you should make it on time if you hurry.”

“Where’s yours?”

His jaw tightens, but it’s gone as quickly as she saw it. “St. Ignatius.”

“That sounds nice, is that far from the station?” she asks. 

He clears his throat, but still doesn't smile. “It’s not too far. Taking the bus down to San Francisco, then the tube across the bay. From there it’s only like 15 minutes.”

“It sounds beautiful.”

He nods unconvincingly, “It’s the church my dad used to take me to when I’d visit in the summer. There’s these wolf statues in the courtyard and he used to get so mad about me playing on them. I haven’t been there in forever.”

“Tha sounds nice,” Annabeth says, tucking the invitation away. “So do you think you’ll give the book back to him?”

“I don’t know,” he says, quiet and thoughtful.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, fumbling with the headphones and charger that looks to be tied in knots around it. Once he untangles them, he pauses for a second, like he’s considering something.

“Do you like Star Wars?” he asks. 

“Never seen it.”

He hums softly as he reaches down to plug the charger in underneath the seat. “Do you want to? I’ve been watching them any time you haven’t been bugging me.”

Her jaw drops in surprise, “Me? Bugging you?”

“Yes, Annabeth,” he feigns annoyance. “Now, do you want to watch Star Wars or not?” He holds his phone up, Disney+ pulls up on the screen.

“Fine. But let me put it on my laptop, I’m going to get a headache staring at that tiny screen the whole time.” 

He waits patiently as she pulls her laptop out, connects to the guest wifi, and balances it carefully between their two pull out tables. She opens up the Disney+ website and he reaches over to log in. She catches a glimpse of 4 different profiles when it pops up. Percy, Mom, Estelle, Grover. 

She hands him one of her headphones before pressing play on the movie. With her legs crossed and one of his folded under him, their knees are pressed together. 

Annabeth refuses to think about it, and she refuses to think about him holding her hand on the platform, sitting too close to each other on the observation car, paying attention to how much she rolls her eyes at him, and now the bizarre intimacy of sharing headphones and watching a movie with a stranger. A stranger she doesn't even think she can call a stranger at this point, but has no other word for it… is he a friend?

He goes on to give her some context of the movie. Some kid and a prophetic dream and he goes to such great lengths to keep it from coming true that he makes it true. She’s heard of lightsabers before, so she points them out when they come up on screen. He laughs and assures her that yes, those are the lightsabers.

From what she understands, the rest of the movie is quite sad. They watch as the boy’s slow descent into the dark side, destroying everything he cares about in what started as a desperate attempt to save it. By the end of the movie, he himself is too far gone to save.

“That was sad,” she comments as the credits roll.

“And that, my friend, is the tragedy of Anakin Skywalker.”

After she shuts her laptop, they notice that most of the other lights around the car have been flicked off. “Do you mind…?” He asks, gesturing vaguely at the button.

“Be my guest. I’m exhausted, I haven’t gotten any quality sleep since I got to the first station and something tells me that isn’t going to change tonight,” she sighs, reclining her seat back as far  as it will go.

He smiles softly as he clicks the light off, and whispers, “Goodnight, Annabeth.”

She wakes up in the middle of the night, because of course she does. She has to stop herself from jumping up and disturbing everyone when she realizes her head is resting against his arm. God she hopes he was asleep before she got herself into this predicament. 

He stirs as she moves, but she quickly freezes before he can wake up. 

She curls up against the back of the seat and stuffs her pillow between her head and the window. With her knees pulled up to her chest like this and her eyes closed, she almost feels like a little girl again, like she’d fallen asleep somewhere, maybe in the car or on the couch, and she’d woken up to her dad carrying her. He’d always shush her softly back to sleep before tucking her into her bed, leaving her with a kiss on the forehead. 

In the weeks after the divorce she would wake up to the sound of her mom crying in the next room. It felt strange, Annabeth hadn’t begun to cry herself to sleep until months later, when the gravity of the situation really set in and she accepted that no, her family wasn’t coming back together. And it never would.

As much as she tried to hold it together in front of her mom, aiming to not make this any more difficult on her, there would somehow always be a full box of tissue on the nightstand. And every night before bed when her mom reminded Annabeth that she could talk to her if she ever needed to, she knew that she hadn’t been hiding her tears well. 

She dreams about her parents after she falls asleep. Less of a dream, more of a memory. The last week before her freshman year began, they drove down to Myrtle Beach. They’d stayed in this blue house right along the shore, and as much as she should’ve enjoyed it, the sound of the waves made Annabeth anxious. It was a constant reminder of the ocean, how vast it is, how dark it is at night, how it seems to go on forever. 

Maybe she should’ve just been honest with them at some point in her life, about the fact that she didn’t really like the beach. That, in fact, she’s a little scared of the ocean. And it’s hard for her to comprehend why more people aren’t scared of the ocean.

Next time she wakes up, the sun is rising, and this time, Percy is slumped against her. At first, she freezes entirely, not really sure what to do next. But the old man across the aisle is looking at them funny, so they certainly can’t stay like this. Not that she wants to.

She shifts in her seat, moving her arm from under his head. He rubs at his eyes, and when he opens them he doesn't ever seem to know where he is, he just looks at her. After it registers, he moves, with a quiet, embarrassed apology.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, each awkwardly scrolling on their phone. It makes Annabeth’s shoulders tense, and she feels bad that he feels bad. 

“If it helps,” Annabeth speaks up, clearing her throat, “At some point in the night I woke up in the same predicament. So don’t feel too awful.”

He buries his face in both hands and she watches his shoulders shake with quiet laughter. When he finally recovers, his face is flushed. “And to think, 3 days ago you side eyed me for getting up to use the bathroom. Now look at us.”

“Damn, you noticed the side eye?” she winces.

Percy turns to her, and this time she is on the receiving end of that dumb look. “I’d have to be blind not to.”

“I’m sorry, I was just—“

“No it’s fine,” he waves off her explanation, “everyone hates the train, you thought I was a weirdo, it’s fine.”

“I didn’t think you were a weirdo,” Annabeth sighs, and he looks at her like he knows she’s lying. “I knew you were a weirdo.”

“Oh I’m the weirdo? Day 1 you were mean to me because I asked if you like pastries.”

“Alright, I was cranky and tired and that was before I knew you were…” she waves her hands around vaguely, trying to come up with a word.

“That I’m…?” He asks, shooting her an overly innocent look.

“…Pleasant,” she says the word like it pains her.

“I bought you breakfast and all I get is pleasant?” he asks, clutching one hand over his heart like he might keel over any second.

“Hey! If you’ll recall, I didn’t ask you to do that,” she argues back.

He stares at her for one long moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek, before he stands with a heavy sigh. “Well, you can return the favor,” he smiles, nodding towards the front of the car.

She rolls her eyes and pulls herself to her feet. He makes a show of waving her in front of him, letting her lead the way to the breakfast she owes him. Admittedly, she does feel better about returning the favor, about not feeling indebted to this man, even if it is just a pastry. 

They stumble up the aisle, overly aware that the train could lurch to a halt at any moment like it had on the first morning. Annabeth reaches for the sliding door at the front of the car, and right before she opens it, he leans forward, just next to her ear.

“For the record, I think you’re pleasant too, Annabeth,” he says quietly, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

And she just about has a heart attack right there on the train. 

Instead, she takes a deep breath, exhales slowly, and slides the door open. Neither of them speak again until the cafe line, where he politely requests a blueberry muffin and an apple juice. 

She is being normal. She is being normal even though she can hear her own heartbeat in her ears. And even though her face feels hot and she can hardly stand to look at him until they get back to their seats. But no, she is being normal.

“If you had to perform in a talent show tomorrow, what do you think you would do?” Percy asks after finishing his muffin. He brushes his hands off and turns to her expectantly, like he didn’t almost give her a heart attack 30 minutes ago.

“What?” she looks at him, thinking maybe she just misheard.

“A talent show. What would your talent be?” 

She thinks hard for a few moments, but comes up empty. “I don’t know.”

“Come on,” he says, nudging her with his shoulder, “you have to have something. Everyone has something.”

“Okay… weaving, I guess maybe.” But she sounds unsure, and he must hear it in her voice too because he’s looking at her funny. “I haven’t done it since I was a kid, but I used to be good at it. My mom taught me.”

He nods, satisfied with her answer. Then she stares blankly at him, waiting for him to go on. “And yours is…?”

“Oh I have no idea.”

He laughs when she whacks him on the arm. “Okay, okay, maybe juggling or something?”

“Something court jester-esque, that makes sense.”

“Well that’s not how I would’ve put it, but yes.”

“Why’d you ask? Are you planning to sign me up for a secret talent show?” Annabeth tilts her head, and he looks back at her for what felt like forever. 

Then he shrugs. “I just feel like it’s weird, I don’t know very much about you besides that you like pastries and are angry at your dad. We’ve spent almost 72 straight hours together and I feel like I barely know you.”

“Well what do you want to know?”

“Like… do you have any siblings? What’s your favorite color? When’s your birthday?” he rattles the questions off with no hesitation, like he had already been wondering about them.

“No siblings, but I guess I’m about to have step-brothers that I’ve never met. Blue. July 12th. What about you?” 

“I have one little sister, Estelle. Also blue. August 18th,” he says. 

She recognizes the name Estelle from the login screen of his Disney+ account. “So I’m older than you.”

“By like a month, let’s calm down.”

She sighs with fake exasperation and turns her head to look at him. “Anything else you wanna know?”

He pauses for a moment, thinking hard to come up with another question. Something you might find on an “icebreakers” assignment on the first day of class. But she figures he knows enough about her family drama at this point, he knows about the divorce and the affair. Maybe he’s right, maybe they should touch on the surface level things.

“What kind of music do you like?” he asks. He’s picking at his fingernails, suddenly looking nervous for the first time since they met.

“I think SZA was my top artist last year, I’ve loved Frank Ocean for years. I’ve been really into Renee Rapp recently. How about you?”

He hums thoughtfully like he isn’t quite sure how to answer. “I think it’s a little all over the place, my top 2 artists last year were Dance Gavin Dance and Shawn Mendes if that gives you a good idea,” he laughs.

“Shawn Mendes isn’t what I was expecting.” She smiles softly in amusement.

“His self-titled album has some really underrated bangers,” he says defensively, “Where Were You in the Morning? Insane.”

“That checks out.”

“What does that mean?” he asks, half laughing in disbelief.

“I just think your music taste represents you well, ‘a little all over the place’ sounds like you,” she shrugs. 

It isn’t clear how much you could really get to know someone in just a few days, but she feels like they’d been friends for ages. She’d never really had many close friends after elementary school, kids seemed to think she was too intense and eventually she just thought maybe it was better that way. 

People are unreadable and difficult, she finds herself coming across the wrong way more often than not. A lot of times it seems that people just don't quite understand her. She knows she comes off unapproachable, she always has. So how could she be upset with anyone but herself if people don't approach her?

“That’s an interesting take. I think that’s kinder than how most people would describe me.”

“How would they describe you?”

His face falls and she can’t read his expression. He looks regretful, almost. “Probably impulsive. Perhaps rebellious.”

“That’s all?” She asks. There has to be more to him than that. Impulsive and rebellious seem about right, but it definitely isn’t the whole story.

“To most people, maybe. Do you not agree with that?”

“Oh no it definitely sounds accurate. And I don’t know how well you can really get to know someone in 3 days, but it seems like there’s more to you than that.”

“No, not 3 days. It’s 72 straight hours. It’s like speed running friendship,” he jokes. But then his eyes soften, and he seems genuine when he asks, “When you say there’s more than that, what do you really mean?” She wonders if he is really asking what she thought out of curiosity, or if he is asking for himself because he doesn’t know what to think about himself.

What had she meant by that? If nothing else, she knows that Percy has been helpful and persistent. Despite how cold she seemed, he didn’t treat her differently or back away. He just… lingered there, and when she finally decided this trip would be less miserable if she had someone to chat with, he was still there, happy to engage. 

“I don’t know. Witty? Thoughtful?”

His eyebrows raise in surprise, and then he shakes his head. “That’s an interesting take. Can’t say I’ve heard that one before. Maybe you don’t know me very well after all.”

“Maybe I just see you differently than you see yourself,” she replies softly, hoping that maybe he can hear the sincerity in her tone.

He stares at her like he’s thinking hard about something, and then turns away like he’d changed his mind. She wonders if she struck a nerve, or embarrassed herself by assuming she knows more about him than she actually does. 

She didn’t expect to enjoy his company as much as she did over the last few days. After all, she initially hoped and prayed they could just sit in silence and she could read her book and listen to some podcasts and maybe even finish that paper. She hadn’t done any of those things, and she’s glad.

Is asking for his number too forward? He hasn’t given her any indication that he even wants to speak to her after this trip is over, for all she knows he is ready to go on about his life without a second thought. 

Maybe he has a hundred friends back home and doesn't even think that he needs another. There are those people who “make everyone feel like their best friend” and who’s to say that isn’t him? Maybe she was reading this whole situation wrong. Maybe they weren’t friends. Maybe it’s that forced proximity delirium.

So she doesn't ask. And he doesn't either, which is proof enough for her that they’d had fun conversations this weekend, and nothing more.

She’s jolted from her thoughts by her phone vibrating. It’s her dad.

“Hello?”

“Annabeth!” He sounds so excited. Which she supposes is normal, given that it is his wedding day. She still feels strangely bitter about it anyway. “Katie from the bridal party is waiting at the station to grab you so you guys can come straight to the church.”

“What about—“

“Don’t worry sweetie, they’ll get you ready for the ceremony in the blink of an eye. I know we’re cutting it a little close for time, but I think we can make it happen.”

Her stomach churns. Being picked up by a woman she doesn't even know, a friend of the bride she doesn't want to meet, being swept off to some church to be shoved into her bridesmaids dress while more women she doesn't know race around her like the mice from Cinderella, trying to make her presentable after a 3 day journey across the country.

We’re coming up on the Emeryville station folks, if you are getting off at Emeryville please be ready to collect your items.

Percy and Annabeth exchange a quick glance, for some reason her heart drops. Somehow their end has come too soon, even though she was counting down the hours left just a few days ago. As ready as she is to get off this damn train, she doesn't want to admit how much she’ll actually miss him. 

As he’d done at every stop, he pulls her bags down off the overheard storage and hands them off to her. The way he is looking at her makes her chest ache more, like he isn’t sure how to feel either. 

She decides that once they’re off the train, she’s going to ask for his phone number so they can keep in touch. The worst case scenario is that he politely declines, and then she’ll never see or speak to him again anyways. It’ll be sad either way, but at least this way she’d know she tried.

“Well, Annabeth, it seems like our time on the train is coming to an end,” he says, voice quiet.

“It seems so,” she agrees.

“Thank you for making it less awful.”

“Likewise.”

The other passengers are clearly just as eager to get off the train as she is judging by the way everyone is crowding out of the exit. The chaos continues onto the platform, people pushing into ten different directions it seems. For a moment, it feels like they’re going to get separated, and then before she can be pulled any further, he grabs her hand and pulls her off to the side.

His mouth opens like he is going to say something, and she waits but nothing comes out. He just looks down at her, fingers still lingering on hers like he isn’t sure if he should let go. 

And before she even has a chance to be nervous, she hears him mutter “What the hell,” and much to her surprise, he leans down to kiss her.

The crowd continues to shuffle around them, people dragging their bags along, pushing through. Annabeth hardly notices any of it. She grabs Percy’s shirt tight in one hand, afraid she'll be swept away. But his hand is pressed to the small of her back as he kisses her, and the truth is that she’s never felt so safe in her life. His lips were soft and sweet from breakfast, and for a second it feels like the world could just disappear. Like nothing before or after this moment matters. Just now.

By the time he pulls away with a grin, she’s too surprised by the moment to say anything. She stumbles backwards, just a step, and then hears someone calling her name.

She looks up, searching for who must be Katie, the bridesmaid come to collect her. She’s waving one hand, holding up a black sign that reads Annabeth Chase. She looks too excited and too friendly, it’s infuriating. 

When she turns back to Percy, he’s gone. Presumably lost in the chaos of the crowd. She looks as hard as she can, looks for that stupid big blonde head of his or his obnoxious bright blue backpack. But he is simply gone. And Katie is waiting, and she has a wedding she is already running late for.

She takes a breath, trying to ignore the swelling sense of panic in her chest. How could that be it? How could there be no goodbye? She considers the possibility that maybe that is it, that is all the closure he needs. A kiss, and then to disappear into the afternoon. But after all those hours, the moments between them, the way he held her hand at the last station, how could it lead up to this? With no goodbye?

And then she remembers she’d never even gotten his number. No email. No social media, nothing. She doesn't even know his last name. 

A wedding is the last place she wants to go right now. She can almost feel the energy drain out of her body, replaced by disappointment and heartache. She gives herself one last moment to search around, to hope that by some miracle he’ll appear. But he doesn't.

So, with nothing more to be said, she makes her way over to Katie.

She wraps an enthusiastic arm around Annabeth’s shoulders, gushing about how excited she is to meet her, how excited Michelle is to meet her, how excited her father is that she is coming. But Annabeth hardly hears any of it, too focused on her heartbeat in her ears and the pit in her stomach. 

Katie walks her out of the station, going on and on about the ceremony plans and all of the careful preparations that they made. As they walk outside into the gray afternoon, Annabeth finds herself grateful that at least the sun had the decency not to shine today.

The car ride to the church is bordering on painful. Katie wants to know what she is studying in school, if she’s excited for the wedding and to be in San Francisco again, then she asks how Annabeth’s trip was.

“Three days on a train, ugh. That sounds awful. I can’t wrap my head around why you wouldn’t just want to fly.”

Annabeth wants to throw up. She gives her head a little shake, like she is trying to get water out of her ears. Maybe she can get him out of her head the same way.

Someone told her once that there’s a formula for predicting how long it takes to get over a heartbreak. It’s half the time you were together. By her math, and she is exceptionally good at math, she won’t even be thinking about him by tomorrow afternoon.

Then again, her father had seemed to move on from the divorce rather quickly. So maybe there is something to be said about the accuracy behind that formula. And it doesn't loosen the knot growing in her chest anyways.

With Katie‘s chatter becoming background noise, Annabeth just takes in her surroundings. It’s still beautiful here like she remembers, and the architecture is still something that captures her attention. If she didn’t associate the city with her father, she thinks it would’ve been love at first sight with her and San Francisco.

Staring out the window only makes her think of Percy again. How he’d switched seats with her, knowing she’d appreciate the scenery more. How that arrangement never changed even when they’d switched trains or seats, he always waved her next to the window. 

It’s less than desirable weather today, Annabeth had to admit. When she thinks of San Francisco she remembers the sunny days that her father dragged her to the beach on. But the city generously matches her mood today, gray and foggy. 

As much as she hates it, she finds herself feeling sorry for Michelle. This wedding may be the bane of her existence, but this isn’t exactly the kind of weather you dream about on your wedding day. It must’ve been disappointing to wake up on a day like this to nothing but overcast and rain. 

But she wants to go home. That’s what she really wants. Gorgeous city or not, she just wants to be back in New York with her mom. 

She reaches into the pocket of her hoodie hoping to find her headphones (with the expectation that they will undoubtedly be tangled into one big knot) and instead her hand finds a crumpled up piece of paper– no, not paper, a napkin. She unfurls it to see hers and Percy’s messy handwriting scrawled across it. 

the guy next to me smells like old milk :( 

For half a second it makes her smile, but it quickly slips away, and she tries not to let it make her any sadder than she already feels. She crumples it back up and stuffs it into her purse instead.

After lunch one day on the train, Percy had told her about his childhood growing up in New York. He told her how it was just him and his mom, Sally, for a long time. If they had nothing else, they always had each other, and they weathered all the storms together. 

When Sally met Paul, Percy’s stepfather, he’d had a much different reaction than Annabeth is having towards Michelle. It had taken a while for Paul to earn his trust, but once he did it was “smooth sailing” as Percy put it. His mom and Paul had Estelle when Percy was in high school, and the four of them together is the happiest Percy remembered being. 

Percy said he still visited his father every summer until he was 18. From the moment he could fly alone, he’d spent the summers in San Francisco with his dad, and how he’d always been a beach guy. Unlike Annabeth, Percy loved the beach. He was bewildered when she told him she was afraid of the ocean.

“That’s how he met my mom, y’know?” he’d said. 

Apparently dad had been in New York for a work conference, and hit the beach on his last day for the opportunity to say he swam in both the Pacific and Atlantic oceans. He and Sally had hit it off at a bonfire a ways down the shore, they wound up back at his cabin, and the rest is… well, history. His dad was back home in San Francisco before Sally even found out she was pregnant.

“I’ve honestly never really thought of him as my dad, as weird as that sounds. We didn't really have that kind of relationship, he was more like just an uncle I visited sometimes.”

She grew up so close with her father that it made her sad that he hadn’t had that experience as a kid. He emphasized over and over again how much his mom did for him, that she managed to be both parents for a long time, but Annabeth still couldn’t imagine how hard it must’ve been on the two of them. 

He’d spoken so highly of his mom any time she came up that she wasn’t surprised she and Percy were so close. Annabeth quickly learned that Sally was ‘the kindest woman you’ll ever meet’. He explained that there are people who just happen to end up as parents, and then there are people that love being a parent. That Sally was one of those people, she wasn’t just a mother, but a mom through and through, even to kids she didn’t give birth to. 

Percy spoke of a friend in middle school, Tyson, whose home life had been difficult. Sally had let Tyson spend the night whenever he asked, she packed Percy extra large portions in his lunches. She gave Tyson Percy’s “old hand me downs” in the winter, despite the fact that the coat and hat were two sizes too big for Percy and clearly unworn. 

Sally sounded like the kind of person anyone would be lucky to know. Back on the train, it was easy to imagine the two of them hanging out when they were back home, her getting to meet Sally and Paul and getting to try the ‘best pizza place in Manhattan’ that Percy had spoken so highly of. 

Now, Annabeth finds herself with her forehead pressed against the cold window, Katie still rambling on about centerpieces. As hard as she tries, her mind keeps coming back to him in an endless, involuntary loop. He’s like a song she can’t get out of her head, and still she can’t stop herself from humming along to it.

“We’re almost there! We’re making really good time, thank god,” Katie says, clicking off the GPS. Clearly she knew the rest of the route by heart. “You should let your dad know we’re almost there.”

Annabeth fires off a quick text. Short and to the point. Almost there. 

She imagines him in his tux, pacing the halls of the church, checking his watch. She wonders if he’s starting to wish she hadn’t come at all, he certainly has better things to worry about on his wedding day. Doesn't he have seating arrangements or vows to stress over?

Katie pulls around the back of the church, into the small lot reserved for the wedding party. She offers to help Annabeth with her bags, but she is used to carrying them through the stations by now. Before, she’d braved that madness with Percy though, and now she’s alone. For a moment, she simply stares up at the church, letting herself brood in the rain. Then, Katie tugs gently on her arm and leads her away.

The closer they get to the church, the louder the organs inside sound. A pair of ushers hold the doors open for the two of them, helping them inside. One of them pulls Katie off to talk about the order of the procession, and Annabeth takes the opportunity to slip into an alcove around the corner. Just to catch her breath. Annabeth, relax. You are thinking of all the worst case scenarios. You are catastrophizing and nothing has even started yet. 

God, what is she even doing here?

She dips back out of the alcove, hoping no one had even noticed her absence. To her surprise, she steps right into the path of an older woman with a feathery hat.

“Oh!” the woman steps back in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” Annabeth blurts out, “I’m looking for the, uh… groom.”

“You must be Annabeth!” she perks up now. “I’m so happy you made it in safely, boy what an adventure you must’ve had!”

The train seems to be the only thing anyone wants to talk about. Annabeth can’t wrap her head around what could possibly be so interesting about it, but it's the last thing she wants to think about– let alone talk about.

But the woman cuts herself off abruptly, seeming to remember that they have a tight timeline to stick to. “The ladies are waiting for you downstairs,” she says, nodding towards the staircase beside the bathrooms.

Then it clicks, this must be Michelle’s mother, seeing to the mother-of-the-bride responsibilities. Now that dad and Michelle are getting married, she’s struck by the idea that this woman, this stranger, is supposed to be her new grandmother. Then her stomach begins to knot up at the thought of meeting all the other strangers that make up Annabeth’s new family today. Best of all, she has two step brothers to meet later. 

Her stomach lurches at the thought and immediately she feels like she needs to sit down, but there’s no time for regaining her composure.

“Better hurry now!” her new grandmother says. She ushers her towards the stairwell and waves Annabeth down, where the ‘ladies’ must be waiting for her. 

As soon as her foot hits the last step, she is completely surrounded. One lady takes her bag and sets it off to the side as another guides her into what appears to be a Sunday school classroom turned into a makeshift dressing room. There are glitter covered foam crosses decorating the walls and it smells like chalk.

They corral her into a chair across from that mirror that’s propped up against a chalkboard. The other five women are already in their lilac bridesmaids dresses, hair and makeup done up so they each appear to glow. 

“Well aren’t you gorgeous!” one of the ladies exclaims, peering at Annabeth in the mirror. 

Annabeth tries to keep their names straight as they introduce themselves, but there is only so much time for pleasantries and the only ones she can recall besides Katie is the maid of honor, Lucy.

“We were afraid you might miss it,” says Lucy. She seems to float around, comb held in her mouth and golden clips in both hands. 

Another grabs a makeup brush and gently tilts Annabeth’s chin up just enough to apply some blush and soft eyeshadow. One of the other ladies has already pulled Annabeth’s dress out of her bag and is attempting to smooth out the wrinkles.

“Don’t you even worry!” she says, carrying it off towards the bathroom. “It’s the kind of dress where creases just give it a little more pizzazz!” But she sounds more like she is trying to convince herself than Annabeth.

“So how was the train?” Lucy asks as she pulls the front section of Annabeth’s braids into a ponytail at the back of her head. She groans internally.

Luckily, before she even has a chance to answer, Katie swoops in with some gold earrings. “Looking stunning, sweetie.”

By the time they finish a mere 10 minutes later, you’d never know Annabeth just took a 3 day trip across the country. Her lilac dress is mostly smoothed out now, her hair adorned with golden rings. She can’t deny that she looks pretty, but she doesn’t look like herself.

“Do you think it would be okay to put my shorts back on under the dress?” she asks.

The ladies exchange glances with each other, and then Lucy shrugs. “Why not?”

The shorts are practically invisible underneath the dress and the spaghetti straps are the perfect length after some adjustment. The last tulle layer of the lilac fabric fell perfectly at her knees. 

“You look like a princess,” Katie clasps her hands together, beaming proudly at Annabeth like she’s known her her whole life.

Lucy glances up at the clock on the wall and then ushers the ladies towards the door. “We better go, don’t want to give Shelly a heart attack on her big day.”

Shelly. How sweet.

The others giggle as they take a final look at themselves in the mirror, and pull one another into the hall. Their heels click loudly against the linoleum floors, Annabeth can’t help but think they all sound like a stampede of horses. The thought gets a smile out of her. 

But then she finds herself frozen in place, her entire body falls cold at once. It occurs to her that she won’t see her father before the ceremony, that her first look at him in 4 years will be at the end of the aisle.

And the end of the aisle. At his wedding. God, he really is getting married. This hasn’t been some long, elaborate prank. 

She’s known this for months, of course. Had countless conversations about it, first with mom and then even with Percy on the train. But now that she’s here, in the hall of the church, she thinks she might pass out. She knew he was starting a new life, she thought she’d come to terms with that a long time ago. But somehow the wound feels fresh, like a bone you broke when you were a kid that never quite healed right. She really feels like the floor might fall out from under her.

One of the ladies calls something from down the hall. Annabeth can’t even hear it over the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears. Then she takes a deep breath, trying to remember what Percy had said on the train, about her being brave to come today. Despite their lack of goodbye, those words made her stand a little bit taller and loosen the knot in her stomach. Finally, she follows after the other bridesmaids.

Once upstairs, they lead her around to the lobby at the front of the church. Here, she’s introduced to Michelle’s brother, as well as Bobby and Matt, her two new step-brothers. Bobby can’t be much older than her, Matt not too far behind him. If she had to guess, she’d place Matt as maybe a junior in high school.

Bobby offers her his arm, the one she is meant to walk down the aisle with. He gives her a funny look when she takes a deep, ragged breath, and then he leans down to whisper, “Are you okay?”

Someone shoves a bouquet of lilac and baby blue flowers into her hand before she has the chance to answer, and lines her and Bobby up right behind the others. Before she can really even register what is going on, the doors are thrown open and every pair of eyes in the room is suddenly on them.

When it’s their turn to go, Bobby nudges her forward, and Annabeth walks with small, timid steps, afraid she might topple over in her heels. The wedding is bigger and smaller than she had anticipated, but it’s certainly not the quaint little church she spent the last few months imagining. 

She takes a breath, tightens her grip on the bouquet and tries to ignore the hundreds of unfamiliar eyes that turn in her direction now. On the groom’s side she spots a handful of familiar faces, a cousin who lives up in Portland and a few uncles she vaguely remembers getting birthday cards from in the mail.

Bobby is the only thing that keeps her moving the aisle, Annabeth is too preoccupied with reminding herself to breathe. The music is so loud she can hardly hear herself think, and the bright lighting of the church is making her eyes hurt. It’s hard to tell if she is sweating because of the lack of air conditioning or if it’s a result of trying to push down the sharp, panicky feeling she’s grown too familiar with. 

When they finally make it to the altar, she is startled to see her father standing there, smiling at her. It all seems a little ridiculous to her, being on the other side of the country in a church that smells like old books and perfume, a line of women in lilac dresses marching towards him.

It doesn't feel right somehow, her father standing there, beard trimmed perfectly and polished. He has a flower pinned to his lapel, his glasses swapped out for contacts. He doesn't look like dad, and she doesn't feel like either of them are supposed to be here. They should be back at home, chopping up vegetables in the kitchen or flipping through books in his office. She can think of a hundred things they should be doing, and none of them involve standing in this church.

It occurs to her now that Michelle must not be far behind her, and the urge to turn and look is overwhelming. Her grasp on Bobby’s elbow reminds her to keep her focus forward. Okay, one step at a time, Annabeth. The next time she looks up, she meets her father’s eyes. Without even meaning to, she looks away, her gaze finding the neat little bows tied on the end of each pew. 

At the end of the aisle, she and Bobby part ways as he moves to stand behind her father. Dad finds her eye again and gives her the tiniest wink. She looks away. He looks just like he did in the old photos from his and mom’s wedding. Annabeth can’t help but wonder if any of this reminds him of that day. Of mom.

Instinctively, her eyes travel to the doors at the back of the church when the music begins to swell. All of the guests rise to their feet, heads turned in the same direction, and then the bride appears on the arm of her father. Someone in the first pew is dabbing at their eyes.

She’d been so prepared to hate Michelle that she is taken aback by how beautiful she looks. She looks so light and billowy, her thin veil covers her face, but it doesn’t obscure the joy there. Her long white train flows out from behind her, rippling with each step forward. Even from here, she can see that her father’s eyes are shining as she approaches. She wonders if he cried at his and mom’s wedding.

Her walk down the aisle feels like an eternity, yet no one can seem to look away, captivated by her. And when Michelle finally reaches the end of the aisle, her father steps back to take a seat, she takes her place at the altar, and gives a quick glance over her shoulder, flashing a soft smile at a dazed Annabeth. Against all her determination to hate this woman, Annabeth reflexively grins back at her.

Then the rest of it is the same as any other wedding. Vows and tears and I do’s and rings exchanged, the same way it always goes. The same way it always will be. And although every groom should look happy on their wedding day, there is something about the look in the eyes of this particular groom that nearly knocks the wind out of Annabeth. Something about the tears in his eyes, the warmth of his smile, feels like the knife being twisted. 

It makes her want to go home all over again.

Once upon a time, a million summer nights ago, Annabeth had been playing in the front yard. The sun was long gone, the crickets were loud, and mom and dad sat on the porch steps, their shoulders touching as they laughed at Annabeth chasing fireflies around the yard. 

Every time she got close to one, it would narrowly evade her small clumsy hands. Once she finally managed to catch one, it felt like a precious jewel. She brought it back to dad, walking slowly and carefully the whole way so she didn’t lose it.

“Can I have the jar?”

Her mom turns and reaches behind her, pulling out a large mason jar with holes poked in the lid. Dad held the empty jar out for her and so she could drop the firefly in, then turned the top on. She held the jar up to her eye level and meticulously inspected it.

“It’s definitely a good one,” dad said. Mom nodded in agreement.

“How come they’re called lightning bugs if there’s no lightning?”

“Well, why are ladybugs called ladybugs if they’re not all ladies?” He nudged her softly with his elbow.

This made Annabeth laugh and mom roll her eyes, but they all fell quiet as they watched the little bug fly madly around the jar.

“You remember when we went fishing last year?” Mom asked after a few quiet minutes. She wrapped an arm around Annabeth’s small shoulders and pulled her half into her lap. “When we threw back all the fish we caught?”

“So they could swim away again,” Annabeth nodded.

“Exactly,” mom said and she gave her daughter’s shoulders a soft squeeze. “I think this guy would be happier if you let him go.”

Annabeth said nothing, but she held the jar closer to her.

“You know what they always say,” dad sighed softly, “if you love something set it free.”

“But what if it doesn’t come back?” Annabeth’s eyes got wide.

“Some things do, some things don’t,” her dad reached over to pinch her cheek. “I’ll always come back to you, you can bet on that.”

“Well you don’t light up,” Annabeth pointed out, one hand on her hip.

“I do when I’m with you.”

By the time the ceremony is over, the rain has mostly stopped. A cluster of umbrellas still linger in the courtyard like a canopy. The bells above begin to ring in celebration, and they’re so loud that Annabeth’s ears begin to ring as much as they are.

As soon as they’d been pronounced man and wife, dad and Charlotte had marched triumphantly back down the aisle, like they’d just pulled off something incredible. Fifteen minutes have gone by now and she hasn’t seen either of them since.

She wades through the crowd of people, bumping and apologizing and wondering how dad could possibly know this many people. He really had moved here and started a brand new life. One that doesn't have room for her.

The crowd of unfamiliar faces and the strangeness of it all makes Annabeth nauseous. She isn’t sure what she’s supposed to be doing right now. Lucy and the other bridesmaids have disappeared, which makes her feel like she is supposed to be somewhere doing something more useful. She hadn’t quite read all the schedules that had been emailed to her over the past week and there wasn’t exactly time to ask about these things before the wedding.

“Am I supposed to be somewhere?” she asks when she stumbles across Matt who is staring up at the sky like he’s never seen a dark cloud before. He shrugs in response.

As she makes her way back to the doors of the church, Katie intercepts her. “Your dad is looking for you,” she says, “he’s inside with Shelly, she’s just getting her makeup retouched and then we’re doing photos.”

“Wait, where’s the reception?” Annabeth asks. The way Katie looks back at her you’d think she’d asked her if the sky is blue.

“You didn't get the itinerary?”

“I did, I can’t… I don’t remember,” Annabeth says sheepishly. 

Katie gives her a strange look. “It’s not til six.”

“So what do we do between then and now?”

“Well,” Katie says, “the photos will take a while.”

“And then?”

“Everyone’s staying at the hotel, we’ll probably all just head back there until the reception starts.”

“Fun,” Annabeth says. 

Katie raises an eyebrow at her. “Aren’t you going to go find your dad?”

“Right,” she says, not moving her feet. 

“He’s in the church,” Katie says slowly, like she is suspicious that her friend’s new stepdaughter is a few eggs short of a dozen. 

When Annabeth still makes no effort to move, Katie’s face softens. “Look,” she says quietly, “I get it. My dad remarried when I was a bit younger than you and I hated every second of the wedding. But you could do a lot worse for a stepmom than Michelle, you know?”

No, Annabeth doesn't know. She’s never spoken to Michelle. She doesn't know anything about her at all really.

Katie frowns again. “I thought mine was awful. I’d get mad at her for asking me to do the smallest things, like finish my homework or clean my room. I used to think she was the worst stepmom I could’ve ended up with. Then one day I realized, it was him I was angry with, not her.”

Annabeth deflates at her words, looking away at the tip of the steeple and thinking of all the times she snapped at her dad on the phone, the times she avoided his calls altogether, when she cruelly told him she didn’t want to come visit because she didn’t want to see him. “Then I guess,” she says, still not looking at her, “I’m a little bit ahead of you.”

Katie nods, coming to terms with the fact that there is not much progress to be made on the subject. She awkwardly pats her on the arm, and Annabeth turns to leave.

She’s overwhelmed by the dread of whatever waits for her in that church. What exactly is she meant to say to the father she avoided for years and the stepmother she’s never met? 

Back in the church, it’s quiet. Everyone had wandered outside to chat under a canopy of white umbrellas rather than cramming themselves into the small hallways. 

She’s only a few steps inside when she hears voices just down the stairs. She pauses right away, unsure if she should be hearing what she is hearing.

“You don’t think she’ll mind?” a woman’s voice asks.

“Not at all. Besides, she lives with her mom.” It dawns on Annabeth that it is Michelle’s voice, and she is talking about her.

Here it comes, she thought, the wicked stepmother revealed.

Part of her wants Michelle to be awful, so that she at least has a reason to hate her. The other part of her is disappointed at the confirmation that there really is no room for her in her dad’s new life. In fact, she is so busy waiting for the proof that she almost misses the next part.

“I’d really like to get to know her better,” Michelle is saying, “I just hope we can patch things up soon.”

The other woman laughs. “Like… in the next 9 months?”

“Well…” Michelle trails off. Annabeth can almost hear the smile in her voice.

Nine months.

She swears the floor is going to fall out from under her for real this time. Her eyes prick with tears and the first thing she thinks about is her mom. She wants to call her and tell her everything, about the wedding and the baby and the train and Percy. But her phone is downstairs in the same room as Michelle, and she’s the last person Annabeth wants to see right now.

She’s still frozen like that when she hears her father’s voice.

“Annabeth!” he calls, swooping her up in a tight hug. “I am so happy you were able to make it on time. I thought for sure you’d miss it after the train delay.”

Her breath catches at the memory of standing with Percy in the corridor, him showing her where the cafe was. The sudden halt when the train stopped and the way they’d been jolted together for a moment until he regained his footing. 

“I’m so glad to see you, kiddo.” He says. Annabeth feels her fake smile waiver as those words ring in her head.

Nine months.

Her dad is lingering so close she can smell his aftershave, minty and unfamiliar. He’s staring expectantly like he’s waiting for her to say something. Like she has news to share. Like she’s the one keeping secrets.

She’d spent so long trying to cut him from her life, dodging his phone calls and sending excuses back in texts that she doesn't even believe. She never considered the fact that maybe he was cutting her out of his life too, keeping things from her like she was just a memory from a past life.

“Congrats,” Annabeth chokes out. She gives him a halfhearted smile and an awkward pat on the shoulder.

“Michelle is excited to actually meet you,” he says, his own smile faltering at Annabeth’s expression. 

“Great,” Annabeth says quietly.

“I think you two are gonna get along really well.”

He clears his throat and pulls softly on his bow tie, she isn’t sure if he is uncomfortable from the tux or the conversation. 

“Look,” he starts, “I’m actually glad I found you alone. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

God here it comes. Here comes the news about the new baby.

She tenses, steeling herself to prepare for his next words. She doesn't know how she will respond to the new baby, but she wants to keep it together for both of their sakes. She puts so much effort into figuring out how she is going to react, that his next words are drowned out by her own thoughts.

She thinks she heard, “Michelle is really hoping we could do a father daughter dance at the reception. And truthfully… it’d mean a lot to me too.”

And Annabeth, somehow more caught off guard by this than she would’ve been at the talk of the baby, just stares at him.

“I know, I know,” he chuckles a bit at himself. “The idea of getting up in front of a bunch of people and dancing with your old man is probably a nightmare but…” he trails off, waiting for her to say something.

“I can’t dance,” is all she comes up with.

“Neither can I,” he grins, “but I’m sure between the two of us we can figure it out.”

“Fine.” Annabeth says, blinking tears out of her eyes.

“Fine?”

“Fine.”

“Well that’s great,” he shakes her shoulders affectionately, “Michelle is gonna be thrilled.”

“I’m glad,” Annabeth says quietly. And it feels like all the fight is sucked right out of her. Like none of this matters anymore, what is she doing here? She knows she got what she wished for, for her father to just leave her alone. She told herself she wanted nothing to do with his new life, but that hadn’t stopped it from happening. He’d still started it without her anyway and now it wouldn’t matter if she did change her mind now.

Because it isn’t just about Michelle anymore. He has two stepsons now, ones that he is clearly close with judging by Michelle’s Facebook posts. In nine months he’d have a new baby too. Maybe even a new daughter.

Late last night, she and Percy had shared a small can of Pringles they’d acquired from the cafe before it closed. They ate quietly for a while, she felt him studying her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” she asks after quiet consideration. She isn’t sure why she wants to know, only that the question pops into her head and curiosity gets the best of her.

“Uh… what?”

“When you grow up. What do you want to be?”

“Is this the first day of kindergarten?” he laughs. At the time, she didn't want to admit that she found his words endearing. 

“Everyone wants to be something, Percy. What’s yours?”

“What’s yours?”

“We aren’t talking about me. I’m asking you,” she teased, echoing the same thing he once said to her.

“You first.”

She sighed and gave in. “I wanna be an architect,” she said. It is what she’d dreamed about from the second she learned what an architect is.

He nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, yeah, I probably should’ve guessed that from your major.”

She rolled her eyes. “Now will you tell me what you want to be?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, “I’m working on this Psychology degree but I don’t exactly know what I want to do with it yet. I’ve been thinking about being a social worker, maybe.”

This information surprised her, her eyebrows crinkled at him. “That isn’t what I was expecting. Why social work? That’s such a heavy field.”

“I don’t know,” he took a breath, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue. “I guess I’d just like to help kids in situations like I was.”

She considered this carefully. Did he mean kids with single parents, or something else?

He must’ve seen the confusion in her face, so he continued, this time quieter, like he didn’t want to form the words. “My mom was married a long time ago, before Paul. I was really young when they got married, but they were together until I was 13. Gabe.” he cringed as he said the name, like he was remembering something, “He was… shitty, to say the least. Probably still is.”

She tilted her head at him, watching the embarrassment wash over his features. Like he had done something bad and wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. He pulled up his sleeve and pointed to a small circular scar on his wrist. “Cigarette.”

Annabeth had the strangest urge to wrap her arms around him and never let go. He’d told her all about his mother, about growing up in the city and all the experiences that came with it that he never would’ve had in the suburbs. But he understandably had left out all the bad parts. The bad parts that made him want to dedicate his life to helping kids in the same situation.

“He was an angry drunk, we can leave it at that,” Percy let out a laugh that seemed like he was trying to lighten the mood, but it sounded empty. 

“I’m sorry…” she said quietly. Truthfully she wasn’t sure what else to say. That he didn’t deserve it? That felt like a cliche he’d probably heard a hundred times. Maybe it wasn’t even a sorry that happened and more of a sorry I brought that up. 

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago,” his eyes dropped and he turned his attention back to the chips, studying them a little harder than necessary for a can of Pringles.

In the dim hallway of the church, Annabeth watches her father pace restlessly. He keeps glancing down at the stairs, eager for Michelle to appear. It reminds Annabeth of a teenager waiting on his prom date to arrive. 

In high school, her mom managed to convince her that prom was a worthwhile event to attend. That she’d regret it if she didn’t and that the memories were valuable, even though Annabeth tried to remind her that prom was only fun if you had friends. 

They’d gone out, bought this flowy blue dress and silver heels that didn’t feel like her. She didn’t even realize that some small part of her did want to go, until her date called to cancel at the last minute, and she sat in her stupid dress on their stupid couch feeling stupid while her mom offered up empty words of encouragement. 

“I never liked him anyways,” mom had said.

This got a small chuckle out of Annabeth, but wasn’t enough to stop her from feeling like an idiot. 

“Yeah, I don’t know why I did,” she’d admitted quietly. 

Mom thought this over for a moment in her head, then delivered some wisdom that had sounded ridiculous at the time. 

“Love doesn’t make sense most of the time.” She’d grabbed one of Annabeth’s hands in her own, leaned in beside her on the couch. “That’s what makes it so scary. It’s vulnerability that doesn’t follow logic.”

“Everything should follow logic, that’s why it’s logic.”

“Love kind of makes its own rules.”

She wonders if this is what her father thought when he broke their family, that love beats logic. She wonders if this is what he wanted to be when he grew up. Someone who vacations in Paris and talks about the earthy notes in a wine. Husband to Michelle. Father of her baby. 

Ironic that it had turned out this way, that he ended up so far from home. When he got the job at West Point he was so hesitant to go because he realized that Annabeth and mom couldn’t go with him yet and he couldn’t stand the idea of being away. Mom had relentlessly encouraged him to, and finally he agreed that he couldn’t pass up the opportunity. He never even wanted to leave, and when he did he met Michelle. Ironic.

Michelle appears in the doorway, her makeup looking fresh. Up close and without her veil on, it’s hard to deny that she looks radiant. Short and plump and the exact opposite of mom. Annabeth looks away when dad pulls her in for a kiss.

“Michelle, I want you to meet my daughter,” dad says, “Officially.”

Annabeth could throw up right there on the spot. 

“I’m so glad you made it,” Michelle beams at her, pulling her in for a hug. She smells like flowers, it isn’t clear if it’s perfume or the bouquet in her hand. “I’m sorry it took so long, but you only get wedding photos once, right?” Michelle laughs.

Annabeth resists the urge to point out that for dad, this is his second set of wedding photos.

Dad gestures for her to follow them outside, she lingers a few steps behind them as she does. The sky above is still dull, and all of the clouds that had parted back to give them a small glimpse of sunlight earlier, have blocked out the sun again. She’s hardly listening as dad introduces her to a long list of people, friends and colleagues and folks from his American history club. 

“Annabeth,” her father places one arm around her shoulders and guides her to stand in front of an older couple. “I want you to meet Michelle’s parents, Nancy and Kenneth.” 

Now she could put a name to the woman with the feathered hat she met earlier. Nancy.

 She nods her head politely, forcing a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“So this is the famous Annabeth!” Kenneth exclaims.

“We’ve heard so much about you dear,” Nancy adds. 

It’s hard to hide the surprise she feels though, at the idea that her father talks about her so much that Michelle’s family is eager to meet her.

“They’re probably sick of hearing all my stories about you by now,” her father says. He pinches Annabeth’s cheek affectionately and she doesn’t have the energy to swat him away like she used to do.

“Well, we just wanted to give our congratulations before we had to duck out,” Nancy says. “We’ve got a funeral to go to, of all things.”

“Oh no, how sad,” Michelle’s eyebrows wrinkle, “who is it?”

“An old friend of Ken’s, back from law school,” she says quietly.

“That’s awful,” dad shakes his head. “Is it very far?”

“St. Ignatius," Kenneth replies. And Annabeth snaps her head up to look at him.

“St. Ignatious?”

He nods at her, a bit unsure. “It starts at 2, so we’d better get going.” 

“Congratulations again, we’re looking forward to tonight,” Nancy says, smiling softly. Ken offers his arm to Nancy and she takes it, letting him escort her through the gate.

“A funeral, god that's just horrible,” Michelle shakes her head. She pulls her arms around herself, and it is only then that Annabeth notices the chill in the air.

“Here, honey, let’s get you inside,” her father wraps an arm around her shoulders, he gives Annabeth a small smile and says, “You should get inside too, the other bridesmaids are downstairs if you want to join them.” Then steers Michelle towards the door. 

The other bridesmaids. She still feels sick, knowing that she can’t go back inside, she can’t go sit with the bridesmaids and touch up her hair and make up with the knowledge that Percy—sweet Percy, who showed her the observation car and offered to help with her bags before he even knew her, and bought her breakfast because she was asleep because he assumed she’d be hungry when she woke up and held her hand in the busy station. 

God, she can’t go in there knowing that he’s preparing for his father’s funeral somewhere in a much gloomier church across the bay. 

Her arms feel cold and numb, but she isn’t sure if it is from the weather or the panic. For half a second, she considers going back for her jacket and her phone, but they’re both abandoned in that room with the bridesmaids, and she can’t risk someone trying to stop her. This is a trek she will have to make GPS-less, the old fashioned way. 

She takes a long, deep breath as she makes her way towards the front of the building, no plan in mind. The reverend is standing out front, staring thoughtfully at the cars passing by. She hesitates, pausing before she can tap him on the shoulder. But he must have sensed her presence because he turns to look at her because she can even say anything. She figures even if he tells her dad that she asked him for directions, she’ll be too far gone for it to matter anyway.

“Sorry, Reverend, do you happen to know how to get to St. Ignatius from here?”

He stares at her, head tilted as if he is confused. “I do, what in the world is at St. Ignatius that you need to leave your father’s wedding for?” he asks, but there is a sparkle in his eye that tells her he doesn’t plan to rat her out either way.

“I’m…” truth be told, she isn’t really sure what waits at St. Ignatius for her. She can’t exactly tell him she’s going to find a boy she met on the train. So she clears her throat before answering, “Just need to find a friend.”

He smiles knowingly, as if somehow he’s figured out what she’s up to, and points down the street toward a covered bench. “You’ll want to take the bus down to Powell and catch the BART across the bay, then take the bus to Fulton street. I believe that bus lets off right in front of USC, if you see USC you’re in the right place. St. Ignatius is right beside it, believe me, you can’t miss it.” 

“Thank you, Reverand, I really do appreciate it.”

“Be safe, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do while chasing after this young man,” he shoots her a wink, and she feels her cheeks warm at his words.

As she walks—or, runs might be a better word for it, down to the bus stop, her resolve starts to crumble. What the hell is she doing, trekking halfway across the city? She has no idea where she’s going, and there is a decent chance her father is never going to forgive her for this. Not only that, but it is entirely possible that she’s jumping to conclusions. Maybe she is wrong about Percy’s dad. But maybe she isn’t. 

She pauses to study the map on the side of the bus stop. Okay, take the bus to Powell. Or was it Fulton? No, it’s definitely Powell. And then the train. Okay, deep breaths Annabeth, you’re perfectly capable of navigating this city. She only has about $12 shoved into the pocket of her shorts and it will take a miracle for that $12 to get her all the way to her destination.

Maybe she should go back for her purse. Go back and face her dad and just tell him this is something she needs to do. That it isn’t up for debate, she is a grown woman, and he can’t exactly stop her. 

But she doesn't. She has always been the type to plan big confrontations in her head, always plans out exactly what she is going to say, and then backs out in the moment. And she can’t risk backing out of this. 

There’s no more time to consider what she should be doing, because the bus pulls up with a gust of air that blows her hair back. She climbs on, pays the $5 bus fare, and finds an empty seat. The bus is quiet besides the sound of it rattling down the street, there is no chatter between riders. Every now and then someone coughs or sniffles. God she hopes she doesn't get sick. 

In a moment that she and Percy were feeling particularly bored, they’d played a game. Percy had never heard of it, so she had to teach him out, but he picked it up right away.

“Okay, it’s called cheers to the governor,” she said as she crossed her legs and turned in her seat to face him. “Basically, we’re gonna take turns counting to 21, whoever ends on 21 gets to add a rule. For example, 13 could be something like, ‘cluck like a chicken’, then every time we get to 13 we have to cluck. The goal is to add a rule for all 21 numbers and then do a full round counting to 21 without messing up. Make sense?”

“Let’s do it.”

Annabeth started them off, so she ended on 21. Her rule was for the number 7, that you had to give a thumbs down.

Percy went next, remembering to thumbs down at 7. He added the rule that 18 was now “darth vader” his reasoning being that since they’d just watched the movie, it would be easy to remember (spoiler alert: it wasn’t).

They went back and forth creating rules and messing them up and laughing at each other. But finally, finally, after what felt like hours of counting, they did it. Percy wrapped it up at 21, which, at some point, had become “hello Spongebob” in Squidward’s voice.

They both leaned back in their seats with a heavy sigh, as if they’d just finished running a marathon. “That was way harder than I thought it was going to be,” Percy said.

Annabeth turned to look at him. “Oh, it's deceivingly hard. I’ve never finished the whole thing with anyone other than my dad, never had anyone else that could keep up.” 

“Well we make a good team,” he laughed, holding one fist up, she bumped theirs together and died internally at the grin he gave her.

The bus lets her off at Union Square, just like the reverend said it would. She follows the signs inside that direct her towards the BART boarding area, spending another $5 on her ticket. $2 left for the bus after she gets off isn’t promising, but she doesn't have enough money to go back anyways, so she boards the train.

She feels especially ridiculous here. Maybe it’s the familiar rocking, maybe it’s the darkness outside the windows as they zoom through the tunnel underneath the bay. Something about all of this feels stupid. She feels stupid for thinking that this is appropriate, or that he’s even going to want to see her. He ditched her in the station for a reason, right? He kissed her and then disappeared as soon as she turned away.

The bus stop is right in front of the train station, so all she has to do is wait for the right one. The sky is starting to darken again, and she just prays it won’t rain on her. The last thing she needs is to show up soaking wet from the rain, mascara streaming down her face, and shouting over the thunder so that he could hear her like some early 2000s rom com.

As she stands there on the street, she realizes what a strange twist of fate it had been that she met him at all. There were a lot of open seats next to a lot of other strangers on that train, what were the odds that she’d sit beside him? What were the odds that they’d be heading for the same exact place? The idea that there’s a universe where their paths never crossed feels disappointing, somehow she feels like he’s supposed to be in her life, which is why she can’t turn back now.

The bus pulls up to the curb, she climbs aboard hoping to maybe appeal to this bus driver’s pity since she is $3 short. She is genuinely about to start begging when a man behind her says he’ll cover it. He won’t even take the $2 she tries to give him. 

“It’s $5 dude, don’t worry about it,” he smiles as he walks past and she can’t believe her luck. 

She can’t remember which stop the reverend told her to get off at. Fullerton? Frankfort? They all sound vaguely familiar as the bus stops at each one. The familiar pit of anxiety is starting to bubble up in her gut, she resists the urge to take shallow breaths, and tries to calm herself down.

The girls in the seat in front of her are wearing USC hoodies. USC, the reverend had said something about USC. 

When the bus pulls off to the side of the road at Fulton, the girls stand up to leave. Trusting her gut and hoping to god that these girls are headed to campus, she follows them off. She follows them all the way down the block, keeping a reasonable distance so she doesn't look like a creep. People keep glancing her way despite her efforts to not look like a stalker, but then it occurs to her that she might look out of place in her purple bridesmaids dress and clicky heels. She tries hard not to think about it.

The girls turn onto the USC campus, and a wave of relief washes over Annabeth. She’s in the right place. Now, the reverend says she couldn’t miss it, which is vague and slightly unhelpful—

Oh.

The church is massive, with a steeple you undoubtedly could see for miles, and stained glass windows that took her breath away. He was right, you certainly couldn’t miss that. And if there was any doubt left, there’s the wolf statue in the courtyard. The one Percy used to get in trouble for climbing on as a kid.

She wonders if he still has the book, Our Mutual Friend, and if he’d given it back to his father. Before, she thought he meant returning it, unread, back to his father’s shelf perhaps. Now she wonders if he brought it to bury it with his father. That maybe it had been too painful to read after his passing, so he’s bringing it back.

She pauses right there on the street, looking up at the gloomy sky, and takes a breath. She can’t help but recall one of the most poignant lines from the book. And O there are days in this life, worth life and worth death. Her heart sinks when she imagines what it would feel like if she lost her own father.

To think, she’d woken up this morning dreading the ceremony, thinking that she’d like to be anywhere other than this wedding. Now she understands that there are far grimmer ceremonies to attend, far worse things that could happen on any given day. Put into perspective, maybe her father getting married isn’t so awful. 

As she crosses the courtyard, her heart begins to thump harder and harder in her chest. She thought she was nervous before, now she’s reaching a whole new level of terrified at what she might find here.

Overhead, the sun has come out of hiding again, reflecting light back on the shiny wet concrete. She glances down at her watch, almost 3pm, and she isn’t even sure what to do now. Part of her didn’t think she’d get this far, that she’d chicken out and turn back like she always did. 

Annabeth remains rooted to the sidewalk in the courtyard, her feet glued to the pavement. God, what is she doing? This is so unlike her in every way imaginable. She doesn't act on impulse, her decisions are never made from her emotions, she never leaps without looking. This is the most unlike her thing she’s ever done. 

She realizes this is not the type of journey you should make on a whim. That this is not the heroic end of some spontaneous adventure, but rather the sight of something deeply, painfully, humanly sad. She glances down at her dress, the purple is way too bright, too cheerful, that it almost feels disrespectful to come any closer. She’s already starting to turn away when she catches sight of him across the lawn, and her mouth goes dry. 

He stands beside a shorter woman with light brown hair, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. She is dabbing softly at her eyes, the tissues gripped tightly in her hand. She presumes this is his mother, Sally, ‘the kindest woman you’ll ever meet’. 

Sally moves to pull another relative in for a hug, they linger there for a long time before Percy turns away. Just as she thinks he might spot her, she slips behind a vine covered trellis. On the other side of it is a garden, a jarringly stark contrast to the mood just a few hundred feet away. The colorful flowers and fountain and stone benches seem so out of place. Like the church should’ve packed it all away for the funeral. 

She stares up at the sky, her chest rising with slow, deep breaths. She should go, she really should go. 

When she looks back down, he is there, right outside the garden. He looks older in his suit, pale and solemn. His hands hang low at his side, one of them clutching his copy of Our Mutual Friend. He digs at the dirt with the tip of his dress shoe, shoulders hunched forward. He looks like an entirely different person than he’d been on the train. Annabeth feels a surge of affection so strong she nearly calls out to him. 

But before she can even say anything, he turns towards her, like he can feel someone looking.

Now she can really see that something inside is broken, an emptiness in his expression that says coming here was a mistake. But his eyes hold her in place, his face blank. 

For a long time they just stand like that, frozen in time just as much as the statues in the garden. When she accepts that he isn’t going to say anything, she swallows hard and comes to a rational decision, her first one of the day maybe. But just as she turns to walk away, she hears him shuffle behind her.

“Wait,” he says, his voice is hoarse like he’s been crying, and Annabeth realizes he probably has.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, staring at her like he isn’t sure if she is just some grief induced hallucination.

“I didn’t realize,” Annabeth says quietly, “on the train, I mean… I didn't realize.”

He diverts his gaze away from her, deciding that this is a good time to study the bushes off to the side.

“I’m so sorry, Percy.”

Without looking back at her, he nods towards the stone bench on the other side of the fountain. They walk over together, heads bowed, and for a moment they just listen to the mournful sound of the organ inside. Until now, Annabeth had never really thought about the duality of it, how it can sound so light and joyful, like it was at the wedding this morning, yet the same instrument that she hears right now is pure sorrow and grief somehow translated perfectly into music. It reminds her a lot of Percy right now, and the stark contrast to who he had been on the train.

He gives her a once over and shrugs his jacket off as she sits down. “You’re cold.” It’s not a question, just an inarguable fact. His voice is empty when he speaks, like he’s not even really here.

She doesn’t notice the goosebumps on her arms until now, and it's like all the chill hits her at once now that he’s pointed it out. All of the adrenaline and anxiety must have kept her numb until this moment. She pulls the jacket tighter when he leans down and drapes it over her shoulders. The inside is lined with silk, still warm from his body heat. It smells like him, and for some reason that makes her feel even more ridiculous for coming here.

But something about the gesture just cracks her heart open more, it's something so trivial for him to notice at a time like this, when there is so much more on his mind. She wants to tell him that it’s okay, that she doesn't care about the cold, that she stupidly would’ve walked all the way here in the rain for him. 

Percy stands in front of her, rolling one sleeve up and then the other. He stares up at the steeple behind her, but his eyes are somewhere far beyond the church. She selfishly wonders if he is thinking about how inappropriate it is for her to show up like this, something she doesn’t need to be told. She’d realized that fact many times during her journey here, but had come too far to turn back. 

“Do you need to get back?” Annabeth asks, and he shrugs as he finally sits beside her on the bench, placing the book between them. 

“Probably,” he says quietly. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees and bows his head, looking defeated. She wants to place her hand on his back, to rub soft circles on it like her mom always does for her when she is upset. But she refrains.

A few minutes go by, and he doesn't get up to move. Eventually Annabeth finds herself leaning forward too, and they both just stare at the cobblestones beneath their feet. She knows she probably owes him some kind of explanation, but she can’t seem to come up with a good one. I came because I wanted to see you again? I came because I was worried? I came to see if you hated me? They are all too selfish to speak right now.

Back at their home in Richmond there was a birdbath in the front yard. The most frequent visitors were a pair of robins. They’d perch on opposite sides of the birdbath, and splash and peck at each other the whole time. And although they seemed to spend the entire time fighting, they always came together and always left together.

There was one day when only one of the robins flew in. It perched on the edge of the birdbath alone, dancing around it without touching the water. It rotated its head in Annabeth’s direction, and looked at her with something so poignant that she could still picture it even now. She leaned forward off the porch and gazed up at the sky, even though she knew the other robin wouldn’t be there.

She can see that same sense of grief and confusion in Percy’s face now, like he’s almost more lost than sad. Annabeth has never really been this close to death before, she wasn’t even old enough to remember her grandmother dying and she has a great uncle that died before she was even born. She always thought this kind of loss would look inconsolable, like it does in the movies, screaming and shaking your fists at the sky.

Instead, Percy looks like he is going to throw up. He’s alarmingly pale, there’s an unsettling green tinge to his skin. Paired with his glassy eyes, he looks more like a ghost than a man. “I’m sorry I didn't tell you,” he says eventually. “I didn’t know if I should…”

“No,” Annabeth shakes her head, “I’m sorry that I just assumed.”

And they fall quiet again. The sun starts to duck back behind some clouds, like the sky can’t decide if it wants to rain today.

After a moment, he sighs. “This is a little weird, right?”

“Which part?”

“I don’t know, you showing up at my dad’s funeral,” he says with a small smile.

“Oh, that.”

He reaches down and picks some of the gravel up off the ground, fidgeting with it in his hands. “Honestly though, I think it’s the whole thing—that’s weird, I mean. Like, I think the Irish had it right, that this should be a celebration, because that–” he shakes his head, gesturing vaguely to the church, “is fucking awful.”

Next to him, Annabeth picks at the hem of her dress, unsure what to say.

But she doesn’t need to say anything, he continues anyway. “Not that there’s much to celebrate. He was kind of an ass. No point in pretending otherwise now.” As the words leave his mouth, some kind of weight seems to lift off his shoulders. She looks up, searching his face for some way, any way, to help him. But she comes up empty.

“I’ve been thinking that all morning,” he says, “Well, for the last 21 years actually.” There is a long pause before he says, “You’re kind of dangerous, you know?”

“Me?” she asks, eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Yes you,” he averts his eyes again, scooping up some more gravel, “I’m way too honest with you. It’s scary.”

A small robin lands on the edge of the fountain, pecking at the dry basin. Its head twitches to the side, looking at the two of them as if they’re responsible for the empty fountain. Then, it takes off back into the sky.

“How did it happen?” Annabeth asks quietly. She isn’t sure if that is okay to ask or not. Percy doesn't look at her, instead tracing his fingers over the tiny rocks he’s holding.  

After a beat, he clears his throat. “How was the wedding?"

“What?”

He looks at her like she’s the one being strange. “The wedding. How’d it go?”

She blinks. “Fine.”

“Come on,” he says with a pleading look. She realizes he just wants to talk about anything besides his dad, so she at least gives him that, if nothing else.

“As it turns out, Michelle is pretty nice,” she sighs, folding her hands in her lap.

“And your dad?”

“He’s happy.” She swallows hard, unable to find the words to explain how she really feels now. She doesn't mention the baby, like as long as she doesn't say it out loud then she can keep it from being true. Then she glances down at the book on the bench, looks up at Percy, “You kept the book?”

His blue eyes look strikingly gray today, and she isn’t sure if it's a result of the sky or the mood. “Yeah, I did.” 

She doesn't say anything, she isn’t sure what she can say, really. That he should’ve buried the book with his father like he’d intended to? That she’s glad he kept it? She’s quickly learning that the strange thing with grief is that there’s never a right answer. He turns and presses the book into her hands, and that hadn’t been an answer she even considered. 

“You should keep it,” he says, his face somber.

She opens her mouth to protest, and then realizes she wouldn’t even know what to say even if she could find her voice.

“I always thought so many parts of him contradicted each other, you know? He loved the beach, he taught me how to surf when I was like 10. But then he’d be all business when we got home, and he’d read these legal briefs for hours and shush me when I was being too loud. He always kept this damn book on a shelf in his office. I used to think it wasn’t supposed to be there, like it was so out of place. And now I think that it's sort of representative of who he was as a person, like there were parts that didn’t belong.” 

He takes a long pause, and she still doesn’t speak, and then he shakes his head like he can’t get past the discordance of both his father, and the book. “But every once in a while he’d quote it out of nowhere. I swear he knew that book cover to cover.” He nods at the book like he can hardly stand to look at it.

“Maybe he was different than you thought…”

Percy’s tone is sharper when he interrupts. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Never mind, I don’t want to talk about him,” he decides. He runs one hand back through his hair and then presses his face into his hands. 

“You think you’re too honest with me?” Annabeth says after a long moment, “Then be honest.” 

He looks at her again, his eyes searching her face like he isn’t even sure what he is looking for. Maybe the answer to her question, maybe an explanation for why she’s here. “Honest about what?”

She shrugs. “Anything you want.”

To her surprise, he leans forward and kisses her again. This one isn’t like the train station, which had been soft and sweet, a gentle farewell. No, this one is something more urgent, more desperate. Then he moves away, the kiss broken just as suddenly as it started, and they just stare at each other.

“That’s not what I meant,” Annabeth says, and Percy gives her a small smile.

“You said to be honest, that's the most honest thing I’ve done all day.”

“I meant about your dad,” she presses, and as soon as she says the words she wishes she could take them back. She can feel the heat in her cheeks as she tries to explain. “Maybe it’ll help if you just talk about it, if you just…”

“God, just what? Say that I miss him? That I’m devastated and barely holding it together? That this is the worst day of my life?” He jumps up from the bench abruptly, and for a moment Annabeth thinks he’s going to walk away, but he just starts to pace in front of the fountain. 

He pauses, spinning to face her, his cheeks flush with red now. “You think your dad is so awful for what he did? At least he tried. Mine just went back to his own life, knowing that my mom was in love with him, knowing that it devastated her. At least your dad had the guts to try, and I know that sucked too and it hurt when it fell apart, but from what it sounds like, he’s happy now and your mom’s happy now and everyone’s happy, everything’s fine in the end.”

Everyone’s happy except me, Annabeth thinks, but she keeps it to herself as Percy begins to pace again, she tracks his movement back and forth like a tennis match.

“My dad didn’t even care. And he knew my mom was pregnant, he knew she was deeply, madly in love with him, and he left anyway. He got to go back to his perfect life while my mom was stuck raising me. And she’ll tell you she never regretted it for a second, she’ll tell you I was the biggest blessing god ever gave her, but I know it destroyed her dreams. She had real ambitions before me, y’know? She wanted to write a book, she wanted to write ten books, she wanted to make something of herself after her parents died and the fucking uncle that raised her died too. She was all alone and my dad didn’t even have the decency to look back.”

Percy takes a breath, his pace picking up speed. “Sure he let me visit in the summer. But that was because my mom begged him to, she begged him to get me away from my stepdad just for a little while. But my dad was never really a dad, sure he taught me to surf and what bait to use for which fish, but when I cried because I missed my mom? When I hid under the covers because I was scared there were monsters in my closet? Well he couldn’t handle any of that stuff, he couldn’t handle a kid, not really.”

“Percy,” she says, but he shakes his head.

“So no,” he says plainly, “I don’t want to talk about my dad because quite frankly he was an asshole. He spent his whole life trying to pretend I didn't exist except for when I showed up on his doorstep in the summer. He left my mom to deal with his mistakes on her own and never even felt bad about it. I’ve spent my whole life pretending it’s fine and pretending I wanted to go see him every summer just for my mom’s sake but now he’s dead and I’m tired of pretending.”

By now there are angry tears pricking at his eyes and his fists are balled up by his side. His mouth presses into a thin line. “Is that honest enough?”

“Percy,” she says again, this time standing up. She feels stupid with his sleeves hanging over her hands. 

“It’s fine,” he says, “I’m fine.”

The sound of his name being called catches both of their attention. A red headed girl, certainly not much older than the two of them, steps out of the doors. She carries a sort of confidence that makes Annabeth look away, embarrassed to even be here.

The girl immediately stops when she spots them.

“It’s almost time, Perce,” she says, reaching up to adjust her black headband. “The procession is about to leave.”

Percy’s eyes now linger on Annabeth. “One minute, Rach,” he says, without looking away.

The girl looks like she’s going to protest, but then decides against it. She gives Percy one last glance over her shoulder before retreating back through the door she came out of.

When she’s gone, Annabeth forces herself to meet Percy’s eyes again. His face is entirely unreadable, one of the things she’s unfortunately learned that he is best at. The interruption of the girl seems to break the magic bubble of the garden, now Annabeth is acutely aware of car doors slamming shut on the street and the people milling about near the door.

Still, he doesn't move.

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth says quietly, “I shouldn’t have come.”

“No,” Percy says. And she waits to hear whatever words are underneath it, “please stay” or “I’m sorry too” but they never come. Instead he says, “It’s okay.” 

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her heels digging into the wet ground. She suddenly remembers she is wearing his jacket, he doesn't even meet her eyes when she hands it back. 

“I should go,” she whispers, unsure if he could even hear her anymore.

“Right,” he says, “me too.”

Neither of them move, and Annabeth realizes she is holding her breath.

Please ask me to stay.

“Good to see you again,” he says stiffly, then reaches into his front pocket, producing a $20 bill. “So you can get back.” He sounds nothing like the guy she sat beside on the train. 

He holds out one hand, she takes it gingerly, and then they just hover there for a moment, somewhere halfway between a handshake and something that feels more like a goodbye than anything he ever could’ve said with his words.

“Likewise,” she tries to force a polite smile, “Good luck, with the…”

“Thank you,” he gives her one quick nod and then turns in the direction of the church. He doesn't look back.

Her stomach churns once he walks away, face burning with humiliation and all of the words she never got the opportunity to say. 

She shouldn’t have come, that much is clear. A moment of delirium and desperation turned into something she’ll spend her whole life trying to forget. The sun is slipping down beneath the horizon, but the sky remains gray. She knows she has somewhere she needs to be, somewhere she needs to be now actually, but she can’t bring herself to care anymore.

Her eyes land on the bench, at the book resting on top of it. She moves to pick it up, skimming through the pages like they might give her the answers she wants about Percy. She stops on another highlighted line. 

No one is useless in the world who lightens the burden of it for anyone else

She lets herself sit there for a moment, clutching the book in both hands. When she rounds the corner to leave, she catches a glimpse of them there. Percy and his family are still huddled at the doorway. 

There’s a man beside Sally, gently rubbing her back, she is still dabbing at her eyes. The redhead lingers just next to Percy, and there is something protective about the way her hand rests on his elbow. Next to them stands another person with his back to her, tall and dark haired. 

When he turns to pull the doors shut behind them, Annabeth catches a glimpse of his face. The man who paid her fare on the bus. He’s here. It feels like some cruel twist of fate, like a sign that maybe something was meant to happen here, but somewhere along the way it went wrong. It’s as if the universe gave her an opportunity and she messed it up, and now all they’ll ever be are two ships in the night.

She practically runs out of the courtyard and onto the sidewalk. And she isn’t even running to make the reception on time, she’s just running away from here. She thinks maybe if no one else spots her here she can pretend it never happened.

At the last minute, she leaves Percy’s book on the hood of a car out front. She doesn't want to remember any of this. 

If asked, Annabeth is certain she wouldn’t be unable to recall anything as she retraces her steps. It’s like she simply blacks out, floats through the city like a ghost until she steps off the bus and joins the land of the living again.

She wishes more than anything that she had her phone right now. All she wants is to call mom, apologize and cry and tell her all about dad and the wedding and the baby and Percy and how this entire trip had been one big, stupid mistake. All she wants is to pretend these last few hours never happened.

There is a lump in her throat the size of a baseball when she thinks about the way Percy looked when he left her standing there in the garden. The way his eyes, the same ones that looked at her so softly on the train, couldn’t even meet hers. 

And that girl. Annabeth isn’t sure who she is, but the way her hand lingered on his arm and the way she looked at them across the courtyard felt protective. She seemed close with his family, Annabeth wonders if it was an ex-girlfriend maybe. Percy had never mentioned her on the train, then again she’d never asked. She wonders if there was still something there between them, that’s why she was there and looked at her so strangely. 

Annabeth slumps against the side door of the hotel, cringing at how stupid she must’ve looked showing up at the funeral. How people had probably asked Percy who she is, and how he’d identify her as some girl from the train. Everything is tainted now, even the memory of that kiss in the train station is tainted because it hadn’t even meant anything and the way things ended makes her want to curl up right here next to the dumpster and cry.

“Annabeth!” 

Her head snaps up immediately at the sound of her name. Michelle is running towards her, red faced and out of breath. “We’ve been looking everywhere, your dad tried calling but your—“

“Phone is in the dressing room, I know,” Annabeth says quietly.

She wants to find something wrong with this interaction, something to hate her new stepmom for. But when she looks at her, the only thing she can see on Michelle’s face is concern. 

“How angry is dad?” 

Michelle looks down, huffing out an exasperated breath. “He’ll just be relieved that you’re okay. He is so worried, we all were.” 

And Annabeth can tell she really means it. “I sort of ran off without thinking,” she says. And it’s half true, but maybe she had actually thought too hard about it. She’d thought long and hard enough about it that she managed to convince herself it was a good idea. She blinks back the tears that threaten to spill, and takes a deep breath.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on,” Michelle says, and there’s a warmth to her voice that is specific to moms. And as much as she hates to admit, Annabeth is starting to believe Michelle might be a good one. “But I want you to know that you can talk to me if you ever need to. About anything. It stays between us, I won’t tell your dad.”

This is what breaks the dam. As hard as she tries to will them away, the tears stream down her face, and she feels stupider than she has all day. Standing here, crying over a boy she knew for less than a week.

Michelle doesn't pry, just wraps both arms around Annabeth and pulls her close. She doesn't even blink when Annabeth doesn't hug her back at first. Then she presses her face into her shoulder and sobs. About everything. She’s bottled up so many tears that she ran out of room to store them, and now they were all pouring out.

She cries and cries and wonders how long they’ve been out here. She cries about her father’s new life, about him leaving their family, about her determination to hate Michelle only to learn that she makes it incredibly difficult to do so. She cries about Percy, but she cries for him too. She cries about the fight she had with her mom, the guilt of not calling her, the guilt of sobbing on another mom’s shoulder while she rubs her back. 

After a while, she just sniffles, no more tears left. She pulls back, and can’t bring herself to look Michelle in the eye. She’s certain that there are tears and snot on her white shawl.

And then, as if she’s read her mind. “I’m a mom to two boys honey, I promise I’m not bothered by a little snot,” Michelle laughs. 

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth says, wiping at her face. “First the search party now this, I’ve really ruined the reception huh?”

“We’re gonna be inside whenever you’re ready, okay?” Michelle gives her a soft pat on the shoulder and then Annabeth’s alone again.

She takes a few steadying breaths and tries to mentally prepare herself for whatever reaction her father is going to give her when she finds him in the ballroom. 

She catches her reflection in the glass of the revolving door and her heart sinks. Her makeup is runny from the humidity, some of her golden rings that adorned her braids were lost somewhere in the journey and her hair now hangs damp and limp in her face, and worst of all, her dress is wrinkled even worse than it had been before. The other bridesmaids will be disappointed to see that she’d ruined all of the hard work they put in to make her presentable.

The man behind the desk is finishing up a phone call when Annabeth walks up, and he looks at her expectantly.She’s not sure why the words feel stuck in her throat, but she has to force them out. “I’m looking for the Chase wedding.”

He glances down at some paperwork on the desk. “You’re a bit early, it doesn’t start until 6.”

“Oh… do you know where I could find the groom then?” she asks.

“Ah, I see. They’ve been expecting you, actually. Suite fifty two.”

She mutters a halfhearted thank you and starts down the hallway in the direction he’d pointed her to. Her dirty heels click on the marble floors, and she looks just as out of place here now among the chandeliers and champagne, as she did approaching the funeral in her bridesmaid dress. It’s like she doesn’t belong at either one.

“God I wouldn’t want to be the one footing the bill for this place,” she says under her breath. Then she wonders who is paying for the wedding. Michelle’s parents, maybe? It wasn’t dad’s parents, that much she was certain about. Briefly she wonders if they’re paying for it themselves somehow, and it dawns on her how little she knows about their life out here. Do they live in a big fancy house outside the city? One of those iconic Victorian houses downtown? Do Bobby and Matt ever visit their father? Do they have a dog, or maybe a cat? 

Some part of her doesn’t want to know the answers. It’s not like she and mom necessarily  struggled after dad left, but it definitely hadn’t been easy and required some significant life adjustments. She had always refused to take anything dad offered her, she didn’t want help from him and didn’t want to feel like she ever owed him anything. But maybe he was in a position here that it wouldn’t have even put a dent in his bank account. 

When she knocks on the door to the suite she is so braced to find her father there that Katie’s appearance on the other side is just as jarring. Not that Katie looks pleased either, she looks Annabeth up and down and simply sighs. 

“What happened to you? You disappeared to run a marathon?” Katie asks.

“Um…” Annabeth’s not sure how to answer, the only one who really knows where she ran off to is the reverend back at the church, and at this point part of her wishes he would’ve just ratted her out to her dad. At least then maybe he wouldn’t have been so worried, and maybe a little less angry. 

“It’s fine,” Katie waves a hand dismissively, “your dad wants to talk to you. He’s in the bedroom.” 

Annabeth still isn’t sure what to expect. She has a feeling he isn’t going to be as understanding as Michelle, or as simply disappointed Katie is. Something tells her he will be much angrier than either of them were.

She opens the door to him, straightening his bowtie in the mirror. He looks up at her and she wonders if her eyes are still puffy from crying. Where she expects anger, there doesn’t seem to be any. His brows are scrunched up but his eyes are soft, and he almost looks sad. And maybe he can just see it in her face too.

“You okay, kiddo?” He asks, with such a gentle tone that Annabeth almost starts crying again right there on the spot. 

The door clicks closed behind her, but she still doesn’t say anything. She just keeps wishing things were different, and not the kind of resentful wish you make when you’re angry at how things turned out, but the pleading ones that you make with your whole heart. She has the realization that underneath all of her anger towards him, was a teenage girl who felt like her dad left her behind when she needed him most, and it washes over her in a wave of regret.

She thinks of the stories they’d read together when she was a little girl, and how many times he told her it wasn’t her fault that he was moving, and that it wasn’t because he didn’t love her. It all seems so childish now, she wishes more than anything that she could redo all those years spent being angry and trying to push him out of her life. And then she thinks about Percy and the dad he felt like regretted him, and how there are so many worse ways to lose someone. Ways that you can’t take back, no matter how much you beg and cry and apologize.

“Annabeth?” He puts a hand gingerly on her arm when she doesn’t respond. “What’s the matter?” 

A tear drips down her face, she’s amazed that she even has any more of those left. She tries to brush it away before he can notice, but he wouldn’t be her dad if she fooled him that easily. 

“It’s just been a long day,” Annabeth takes a slow, shuddering breath. He’s looking at her like he knows there’s more to the story, and she decides maybe she should just talk about it. She’s been trying to hold it in all day and she’s never even talked about boys with her dad before yet here she is.

So she tells him all about Percy, and about how he helped with her bags and made her laugh on the train and how she watched Star Wars for the first time, how she finally won Cheers to the Governor with someone besides him. She’s talking so fast that she can barely get the words out together by the time she gets to the kiss at the station, how he disappeared afterwards and about the funeral she assumed was a wedding. Somehow it feels even stupider to say out loud than it does in her head.  

“I should’ve told you,” she sniffles, then wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “Actually I just shouldn’t have gone at all,” she decides.

He doesn’t respond, waiting for her to continue. She recalls the distant, empty look in Percy’s eyes earlier today in the garden. He’d looked like a whole different person, and she wonders why he hid it the entire trip. He listened to her complain about her dad for 3 days straight when his was dead, and he tried to make her trip bearable. The only time she even thought something was wrong was when she noticed him crying under his hood in the middle of the night.

“I was trying to help,” she says quietly, “it’s so stupid I can’t believe I thought that was a good idea.”

“I think it’s sweet of you,” he responds, rubbing comforting circles on her back.

“It’s not, dad. It was stupid and embarrassing and irrational. I only knew him for a few days, and I just assumed…”

“Love isn’t supposed to make sense. It’s completely illogical and sometimes it feels stupid, because it’s vulnerable.”

Annabeth looks up and meets his eyes for the first time since she’s been sitting here. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shakes her head, “just… mom said the same thing once.”

“About Percy?”

“No, just... It was a long time ago.”

He nods in approval. “Well, she’s a very wise lady, your mom.”

The words slip out of her mouth before she can even think about them. “Then why did you leave her?”

His jaw drops a bit and he pulls away. He takes a slow, deep breath and she can tell that he’s looking for the right thing to say. After a few moments he opens his mouth like he’s going to speak, but then changes his mind.

“Never mind,” she shakes her head. “Just forget I asked.”

“Annabeth…” he says, placing one hand over hers, “I want you to know that I still have a lot of love for your mom. I still care very much about her.” She’s about to interrupt him, but he holds one hand up to ask for a few more seconds to speak. “But it’s different now. It’s a different kind of love. There’s a lot of guilt there too, but she means a lot to me. I hope you know that.”

“Then how could you—“

“Leave?” 

Annabeth nods.

“I had to,” he says simply, “but that didn’t mean I was leaving you.”

“You moved across the country.”

“I know,” he nods, calm and understanding. “but it wasn’t about you.”

“Right. It was about you,” Annabeth snaps, like all the anger from before comes rushing back now that she has the opportunity to be honest with him.

Admittedly, she wants him to argue back, to yell and play the role she assigned him of the selfish father who had a midlife crisis and uprooted his entire life. But instead, he just sits there, head hung low and hands clasped in his lap, looking utterly defeated. At one point in time, maybe she would’ve found satisfaction in this, but not anymore.

“I fell in love,” he says after a while. His collar is still turned up from when he’d been adjusting his bowtie, and it’s a painful reminder that it is his wedding day. He blows out a breath, and then looks up at her again. “I don’t expect you to understand, I would never ask you to. I know that I screwed up, I know.”

Annabeth stays quiet, waiting for him to continue. Because what is there to say? That it’s fine, she forgives him? Soon he’s going to have a new baby, a second chance to do it all over again. This time, he can be there. This time, he can do it right.

He pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers like he feels a headache coming on. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I know it hurt you as much as— maybe more than— it hurt me and your mom. But maybe we can start over? I know things will feel different here and that’ll take some time to adjust to, but I’d really like you to be a big part of my life now as you’ve always been to me.”

She stares down at her hands, fingers picking at the hem of her dress again. The exhaustion of the day is catching up with her, and all it leaves behind is the petulant teenager he left when he moved. “I liked our old life just fine.”

“I know, but I need you now too,” he says.

“So does mom.”

“I know.”

“I just wish…” she starts, after one long moment of awkward quiet.

“What?”

“I wish you stayed.”

“I know,” he says, for the millionth time by her count. He still doesn’t argue, he doesn’t even try to say that they’re better off this way like mom always does during these conversations.

Percy had said that her dad was brave enough to at least try. She wonders now if that was really true. It’s hard to imagine a life where he moved across the country before she was born and didn’t care whether or not she was in his life. 

She wonders if that would’ve been better, if she never knew him and never knew what could’ve been, if she never knew how much he loved her and loved being her dad. Would that have hurt less, if she never knew? Or would she still hate him for not trying, in the same way that Percy’s dad didn’t? 

She doesn’t know what to think, or which life would’ve hurt more. All she knows right here and now is that he’s happy, and she’s seen it in his eyes all day. 

“Dad?”

His eyes meet hers again, and she can tell he’s not sure what reaction to expect here.

“I’m glad that you’re happy.”

He looks away in surprise, and then they’re quiet for a moment. When he turns back to her, he says, “You know what would make me even happier?”

“What?”

“If you came to visit us sometime, here in San Francisco,” he grins. 

She tries again to picture what their house might look like, but the only image that comes to mind is the Tanners’ residence in Full House. She wonders if Bobby and Matt live there full time, and if there’s room for her too. But she’s too afraid to ask.

Before she can answer, there’s a knock at the door, and Lucy peeks her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have about 30 minutes.”

She hears Michelle from somewhere behind the door, “Take your time. It’s not like they can start without us!”

Dad glances over at Annabeth, and then after a moment of study, he says, “That’s okay, I think we’re all sorted out in here.”

They both stand from the end of the bed, and Annabeth catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, somehow looking even more of a wreck than when she walked into this room. “I think I might need a little—“

“We thought you’d never ask,” Lucy lets out a breath of relief. She motions for Annabeth to sit down on a small couch in the other room and the rest of the women come armed with hair clips, makeup wipes, and fresh mascara. 

It only takes twenty minutes for them to perform their second miracle of the day, and then they rush out of the door, presumably downstairs to ensure the entrances will go off without a hitch. Michelle and Dad linger behind.

“Wow!” Michelle smiles, and gives her finger a little twirl. Annabeth obliges, even bowing to ensure they see the little golden clips in her hair. Dad claps as Michelle lets out a chorus of compliments.

“You look stunning,” Michelle says, standing there in her soft, white reception dress. The shawl from earlier has disappeared and Annabeth wonders if it’s because of the waterworks, or if it was never meant to stay on for the reception.

“You look stunning,” Annabeth tells her, because it’s true. And she was too upset to say it earlier, but it’s true.

“Well thank you, but I haven’t just survived three days of travel. You must be pooped,” she says.

“I am pooped,” Annabeth agrees with a weary smile. “But it’s been worth the trip.”

Michelle’s eyes brighten. “I’m glad to hear that. The first of many trips, I hope.”

“Oh,” Annabeth says, “I don’t know—“

“You have to,” Michelle insists. She crosses the room to fish through her bag for her phone. “And we just renovated, let me find the pictures.”

“Honey, is now really the—“ Dad starts to ask, but Michelle cuts him off.

“Oh it’ll only take a minute,” she waves him off, turning to Annabeth with a smile. She scrolls through some pictures on her phone until she finds the ones she’s looking for. “Here’s the kitchen,” Michelle as she turns to show off the first picture.

Annabeth leans closer, trying to spot any remnants of dad’s old life. Maybe his tweed jacket on the coat rack, or his favorite mug on the table. She tries to picture his life with Michelle as she keeps swiping through the photos. She can almost imagine them side by side cooking breakfast the way he used to do with mom, or sitting on the front porch steps to enjoy the sunshine. 

“And Matt’s room in the attic,” Michelle sighs as she swipes at the screen. “I swear that boy is basically a gremlin.” Then she turns to glance at dad before she pulls the next photo up.

“This is the spare bedroom,” Michelle says. “Yours whenever you decide to visit.”

The next photo is of dad's office, and though he didn’t take his furniture when he left New York, it pretty much looks the same. Dark wooden desk, tall shelves lined with books, model antique airplanes on the windowsill, framed photos on the wall.

Michelle’s saying something about how particular dad always is about his things, while Annabeth leans in to study the photos on his wall. 

“Wait,” she says, just before Michelle swipes to the next one.

“Recognize those?” Dad asks from across the room, but Annabeth doesn’t turn to look at him. Because she does recognize them. The bird bath outside the window, the long front porch and its swing, the lemon tree and the wildflowers across the yard. It’s almost like they’re home in Virginia on a summer afternoon. When he sits in his leather chair at his new desk, he must think of home when he looks at those old photos on the wall.

“When did you take these?” She finally looks up at him. 

“The summer I left for New York.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he says quietly, “because I loved watching you play outside the windows, chasing fireflies and filling the bird feeder with mom. I couldn’t imagine trying to get any work done without them. Sometimes it’s like I’m back home again.”

Michelle, who has been watching them with delight, pinches the screen to zoom in. “You have a beautiful garden,” she says, pointing to the pixelated wildflowers in one photo.

Annabeth reaches to zoom the photo back out, and then points a finger out the flowers peeking into the window. “So do you.”

“I hope you’ll get to see it for yourself soon,” Michelle grins.

Annabeth glances back at dad, who gives her a small smile. 

“I hope so too,” she says.

Katie and the other bridesmaids are back to fetch her, accompanying her down to the ballroom where a string quartet plays off to the side. At the back of the room, she spots a 4 tiered cake adorned with colorful flowers, with bride and groom figurines on top. The crystals on the chandeliers catch the light perfectly, twinkling against the walls. 

Waiters in bow ties whisk by with trays of champagne, the bridesmaids giggle as they each grab one and then nod for Annabeth to join them. 

“Let’s have a toast, just the 6 of us,” Lucy says. So Annabeth grabs a glass off the tray for herself, and they all hold theirs up to clink softly together. 

“To love,” Katie says, and then glances at Annabeth with a soft smile, “and to family.”

Around them, guests have started to find their seats, so they each down their glass and shuffle towards the front of the room.

“Where am I sitting?” Annabeth asks.

“At the front table with the rest of us, silly,” Katie elbows her playfully, “and the bride and groom of course.”

Annabeth’s right between Lucy and Katie at the table. She briefly wonders how Michelle knows all of them, were some of them relatives? Childhood friends? Sorority sisters? For all she knows, Lucy could be her new aunt or cousin.

The music begins to swell and everyone turns to look at the doors. “I’m proud to be the first to present to you Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Chase!”

A wave of cheers and applause goes up as Annabeth swivels in her seat, just in time for the doors to swing open. Dad and Michelle practically bounce into the room, hands clasped together. Dad lifts his arm so Michelle can twirl under it, and the crowd cheers louder in approval.

Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Chase Annabeth thinks, as she watches them float to the middle of the dance floor. Michelle’s dress is almost as beautiful as the one she walked down the aisle in, this one shorter and more practical, it still swishes around her as she spins.

The song they start to play as the first dance begins is unfamiliar. Annabeth can’t help but wonder what significance it has to them. Was it playing on the day they met? The first time they kissed?

The whole room is enchanted by the couple on the dance floor, the way they lean into each other as they laugh at words only the two of them can hear. Michelle presses her face into dad’s shoulder as they sway, and he readjusts to intertwine their fingers. The chandeliers twinkle above them, and it all just feels so magical. Everything about them just seems to fit.

When the song comes to an end, Michelle gives a playful bow as the crowd claps enthusiastically. The band calls for the rest of the wedding party to join them on the dance floor, and one by one they pair off. She doesn’t move from the table, satisfied to watch them dance, but then dad appears with one hand held out to her.

“May I have this dance?” he asks, a playful twinkle in his eye.

“Where’s your wife?” 

“I pawned her off,” he laughs.

Annabeth can’t help but smile. “Already?”

“Come on, kiddo,” he beckons her to follow, and she does.

He half drags her to the middle of the floor where Michelle dances with her father. Dad spins them in a few goofy circles much to the amusement of the party, before slowing down so that they can sway in awkward and uncoordinated steps. Neither of them had ever been very graceful, that was all mom.

“You look pretty good with Michelle,” Annabeth says.

“That’s just her,” dad smiles, “she makes me look better than I am.”

They fall quiet for a few beats, and Annabeth's eyes travel around the room. “Everything’s beautiful.”

“Cheerfulness and contentment are great beautifiers.”

Annabeth’s head tilts in surprise, “Dickens?”

He nods. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember.Our Mutual Friend was a long time ago.”

Her mind drifts back to Percy, and this one book out of place on his father’s shelf, the highlighted copy with lines he must’ve felt were important. The book he didn’t want, and had given to her when he left her standing in the garden, the book she left on the hood of a card in front of the church. She wonders what the odds are that her father would quote that same book tonight, but she tries not to find any hidden meaning in it. 

“You know, Michelle was thrilled when you said you might come visit. She was talking about it right before we made our entrance, she’s so happy to have you as part of the family.” Dad says quietly, his head bent low. “I was thinking maybe at the end of the summer, you could come. We’ve got this spare bedroom you could make yours, we could paint it and maybe you could even bring some of your things to leave here so that it really feels like your room. And we can go pick out—“

“What about the baby?”

Dad’s head jerks back, his face filled with confusion. Suddenly Annabeth’s not so sure she understood what she heard earlier. The guests around them keep twirling, the two of them awkwardly try to keep up but it’s harder now.

“What baby?” he asks, his words measured and deliberate.

Annabeth glances around wildly, at the bridesmaids, at Michelle happily dancing with Lucy, at one point they both throw their heads back with laughter. “Back at the church, I heard—Michelle said something and…”

“Oh, Annabeth—“

“No, it’s okay dad. I’m okay with it. At first I was upset, but then I thought more about it and it’s not like we talk very much, so I wouldn’t expect you to tell me. But I just wanted to tell you that I’d like to be there.”

He looks like he wants to say something, but then stops himself and just stares at her. 

“I just don’t want to miss out anymore,” Annabeth says in a rush, “I missed so much because I was angry, and I don’t want to do that anymore. Michelle is really great, and Matt and Bobby seem alright too, and I just don’t want to miss out on your life anymore. I don’t want the new baby to grow up thinking of me as some weird older cousin you hear about but never see, and then instead of going shopping or asking for advice, you just end up being stiff and polite because you don’t really know each other, not the way brothers and sisters do. So I just wanted to tell you that I want to be there.”

Dad shakes his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I don’t know what to say.” 

The realization dawns on her, and she starts to pull away, heart pounding in her chest. This wasn’t an outcome she expected, it wasn’t one that she prepared for. “You don’t want me to be part of it…”

Dad’s face drops, and he takes a step closer, placing both hands on her shoulders. “Annabeth, there’s nothing I want more.”

“But?”

“But there is no baby.”

She’s not sure what to say. Again, this isn’t an outcome she prepared for. No words come out, so she’s just staring at him in the middle of the dance floor as people shuffle around them.

“I mean, we’ve talked about it here and there. But with you, and the boys, and we’re… well, frankly just too old to raise a baby.”

“But Michelle said—“

Dad shrugs. “That’s kinda just how she is. I think that in another universe, maybe we have a baby, and I think that she loves that idea. But we both agreed that it just isn’t right for us. The fifth person we’re missing from the family isn’t a new baby, sweetie, it’s you.”

She’s not sure what else there is to say now. Part of her wants to hug him, to fling herself into his arms like she did as a kid. But she’s overwhelmed by the weight of the day, and how hard it is to believe that she’d only gotten off the train this morning.

He seems to understand this, because he’s the first to move, placing a careful arm around her shoulders and guiding her back to the table. Tucked beside him like that, in the same way she’s been a thousand times before, walking to the car after an honor roll ceremony, or leaving her Girl Scouts meetings in elementary school—Annabeth realizes that even though everything else is different, even though there’s an entire country between them, nothing really important has changed. Because he’s still her dad, the rest is just geography.

During dinner, the maid of honor and best man both give their speeches. Uncle Steven draws a few laughs with some good natured jabs at dad, Lucy gives a heartfelt speech about meeting Michelle in middle school that leaves everyone dabbing at their eyes. 

After everyone’s finished eating, Annabeth grabs her tiny purse and turns towards dad at the table. “I’m going to step out for some air.”

“Oh no, are you feeling okay?” Michelle asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Annabeth says quickly.

Dad leans back in his chair with a knowing smile, and then nods at the purse in her hands. “Say hello to your mom for me.”

Annabeth smiles sheepishly, surprised that he’d figured her out so easily.

“Still got that parental sixth sense,” dad jokes, tapping at his temple.

As she walks away she can hear him launching into a story about her kindergarten graduation, and she picks up her speed so she doesn’t hear the rest. 

When she passes through the revolving door in the hotel lobby, it feels like reentering the real world after visiting a fairytale. Everything is darker, less shiny. People mull about in tennis shoes and hoodies. The cool air is refreshing, but it jolts Annabeth back to reality so fast that she needs to find a place to sit. The events of the day really start to set in now that she’s alone, and she feels tired and heavy and like she could curl up right here on the steps and fall asleep.

She presses the call button on her phone and listens to it ring. Mom picks up after the second one. 

“There you are!” she exclaims in greeting.

“Hey, mom,” Annabeth says quietly, rolling the hem of her dress between her fingers.

“I’ve been dying to talk to you,” mom says. “How are you? How was the ride? How’s the wedding?”

Annabeth takes a deep breath, and then wipes at the tip of her nose, runny from the cold. “Mom, I’m really sorry about what I said to you when you dropped me off.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” she says after a beat of silence, “I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know. And listen, I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have made you go, you’re an adult and you can make these decisions for yourself. I shouldn’t have forced you.”

“No, I’m glad you did,” Annabeth sighs, “it’s been… pretty okay.”

Mom lets out a low whistle. “That’s not what I expected you to say, I honestly thought you’d be begging me to book you a flight home for tonight.”

Annabeth laughs. “Yeah, me too. But it’s not so bad.”

“Tell me everything.”

“I will,” she says, stifling a yawn, “as soon as I get home, but it’s been such a long day.”

“I bet. So just tell me this for now, how’s the dress?”

“Mine or Michelle’s?”

“Wow!” Mom laughs, “I see she’s graduated from ‘that other lady’ to just Michelle, huh?”

Annabeth smiles. “Yeah, I guess so. She’s actually kinda nice. And the dress is pretty.”

“How’ve you and dad been getting along?”

“Uh… it was rocky earlier, but I think we’re okay now.”

“Why? What happened earlier?”

“It’s a long story. I kinda ducked out for a while, but I’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Annabeth Chase, you ran away from the wedding?” her mom asks, but there’s amusement under the surprise. She knows just as well as Annabeth that this was so out of character for her that it’s funny.

“Only a little. But I had to.”

“Well, I bet dad loved that. Where’d you go?”

“I met this guy on the train.”

Mom laughs again. “Okay, now we’re talking.”

“Well, I went to go find him. But it was sort of a disaster and now I’ll never see him again, so there’s that.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then mom’s voice comes back a little bit softer. “Well you know what they say, if you love something—“

“Let it go,” Annabeth interrupts, “yeah I know.”

“All I’m saying is that if these things are meant to be, then they’ll be. The universe has a way of showing us what we need.”

Annabeth’s quiet for a long minute, not sure what to say, until, “Mom, I think I just want to fly home. I can’t do the train again.”

“I was just waiting for you to say the word, I’ll buy the ticket tonight, I’ll even come to track you down at baggage claim myself.” 

“Like a lost sock.”

“Well, no. You’re more like a suitcase. And you’re not lost.” 

Annabeth’s voice is very small. “But what if I am?”

“Then it’s only a matter of time before you’re found.”

The phone vibrates in her hand and Annabeth pulls it away to see the battery flashing on the screen. “I’m at 1%.”

“You or your phone?”

“Both.”

“Well, I love you, kid. Be good and I’ll see you tomorrow night okay?”

Annabeth takes a breath, relieved at the thought of being home tomorrow. “Love you too.”

As if they’d planned it, the phone goes dead. For a while, she just watches as cars drive down the street, their headlights reflecting on the damp asphalt. Some of the houses across from her start to go dark as the night ends. In one window she watches the silhouette of a father tucking his son into bed, leaving him with a kiss on the forehead before the light is flicked off. She thinks of Percy’s story, and wonders if this little boy needs a night light too, or if his father checked his closet for monsters and ghosts.

She’s still watching the darkened street, eyes drifting over the row of houses. The street lamps light up in small circles every few feet, the light from the hotel lobby glows behind her. She’s studying the chipped paint on a passing car when her own sort of ghost appears.

Now she knows how it must’ve felt to see her at the church, because she’s baffled to see him here now. Something about this sudden appearance throws her off balance and twists her stomach into a knot. He’s hesitant when he approaches, his dark suit almost pulls him in with the shadows until he’s close enough to the hotel lights. 

“Hi,” he says once he’s close enough, voice barely loud enough for her to hear. And for the third time tonight, Annabeth begins to cry.

In her mind, she pictures a flurry of alternate universes. She shuffles down the aisle on the train and sits quietly beside an old woman, or someone’s dad, or a teenage girl who was too cool to sit with her parents. There are so many ways things could have turned out. So many different realities.

But she’s here in this one, where a boy walks up with a book in his hands and still missing his suit jacket, and sits beside her on the steps.

Neither of them speaks at first. Percy sits a few inches away from her and stares straight ahead as he waits for her to finish crying, and Annabeth is grateful, because it feels like a sort of understanding between the two of them.

“This was a gift,” he says lightheartedly, tapping his fingers on the book in his lap. When she stops sniffling, he turns to look at her. “Are you okay?”

“I can’t believe how many times I’ve cried today.”

“Me too,” he nods. And she feels awful, because he has more right to cry today than anyone.

“I’m really sorry,” she says quietly.

“I’ll be okay, really,” he shakes his head. “But… lots of complicated feelings that I can’t really make sense of right now.”

“Feelings aren’t meant to make sense.”

“Have you been talking to my mom? That kind of stuff is a Sally Jackson staple,” he says, smiling softly.

In spite of herself and this whole day, she laughs. “I realized when I lost you in the station that I didn’t even know your last name.”

“Jackson. Pretty generic, right?”

“Your first name isn’t.”

He thinks on this for a moment, and then lets out a quiet laugh. “No, I guess it isn’t.”

They fall silent again, but it’s not as tense as it was before. Neither says anything until a family walks past them on the steps, two parents each holding the hand of a little girl, swinging her up as they walk. 

“Are you okay?” Annabeth asks, and he nods.

“I will be.”

“Did it go okay?”

“I guess so,” he shrugs, “for a funeral.”

“Right,” Annabeth says, closing her eyes, “Sorry.”

He turns towards her, their knees brushing together. The sudden contact makes her jump back just slightly. He flinches, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” she assures him, “I just didn’t think…”

They fall quiet again, and then he regains the nerve he had a moment ago. “I’m sorry about earlier, about the stuff I said about my dad. I shouldn’t have dumped all of that on you.”

“You were upset.”

“I was angry.”

“And you were sad.”

“Yeah, I was sad,” he nods, “I still am.”

“He was your dad.”

Percy nods again. “Part of me wishes I could’ve been more like you. I wish I had the guts to tell him what he did was wrong, to make him face the way he hurt my mom. I should’ve just told him how I felt a long time ago. Maybe things would’ve been different. It feels like such a waste, like I didn’t even…”

“It isn’t your fault,” Annabeth says after he trails off. It occurs to her that she doesn’t even know how his father died, but it must have been sudden if there were so many things left unsaid. “You should’ve had more time.”

Percy reaches up to loosen his tie. “I’m not sure it would’ve mattered.”

“It would’ve,” Annabeth insists, “it’s not fair.”

He looks away, blinking hard. She sees one tear at the corner of his eye threatening to fall.

“It’s like the night light story,” she says, and he starts to shake his head but she pushes on, “he didn’t understand at first, but he came around. Maybe you both just needed time to come around, and I’m sorry you didn’t get that.”

“It’s still in my bedroom at home, you know? He sent it back with me when I left that summer, it’s still plugged in at home. I don’t even think it works anymore.”

“Nah, I bet it does,” she says. And Percy just smiles at her.

“Thanks.”

“For?”

“For this,” he shrugs, “the rest of my family went home. I couldn’t just sit, I needed some fresh air and… well, I wanted to see you.”

Annabeth nods. “Me too.”

“I was…” he trails off again, trying to find the words, “is it okay that I’m here? I know I just kind of showed up.”

“Of course. Especially after I…”

“After you what?”

“Barged into the funeral today,” she says, wincing as she reminds him, “not that you didn’t already have company.”

“Oh, Rachel and Grover? We’ve been friends since high school, Rach is here at USC and Grover’s going to school up in Seattle. They never even met my dad, just there for moral support, you know?”

Annabeth nods. “Those are good friends. Funny enough, Grover paid my fare for the bus from the station. I didn’t know who he was, of course.”

Percy perks up, “He mentioned that! He said it was such a weird coincidence, he couldn’t believe you were the girl from the train.”

“Weird indeed,” Annabeth agrees.

“Maybe some things are just meant to be,” he says quietly.

“Maybe they are.”

“I mean, the universe keeps conspiring for us to see each other. The train, Grover’s kind heart, the funeral, now this? I don’t believe in coincidence, but I never question the will of the universe.”

“Well I think those last two things were orchestrated but, I like the sentiment,” Annabeth laughs.

He shakes his head. “If the universe wanted to keep us from seeing each other, I think it would’ve tried harder. How’d you find me anyways?”

She sighs, long and heavy. “Well… I remembered you mentioned the name of the church. I asked the reverend at the wedding how to get to it, he gave me the directions.”

“You conspired with a reverend to help you run away from your dad’s wedding?” Percy smiles.

“I guess I did. How’d you find me?”

“Well you showed me the invitation on the train and I told you how nice it was, and then I used Google to get here like someone from this century,” he laughs.   

She laughs too, mostly at herself but also at his tone. “I didn’t have my phone, okay? I don’t think you realize how impulsive and poorly planned my departure was.”

“Impulsive and poorly planned is supposed to be my thing,” he says.

Somehow, without realizing it, they’ve moved towards each other on the stairs, their sides now pressed together. The air still smells like rain and car exhaust. Some people exiting the hotel shake out their umbrellas. A fly lands on the sidewalk next to them.

“I wonder if he got to see the Golden Gate bridge,” Percy says.

She gives him a funny look. “Who?”

“The stowaway,” he explains, “our friend on the train.”

“Ah yes, I’m sure he did. But I hope the little guy is getting some well deserved shut eye now after his big adventure to San Francisco.”

“It has been quite an adventure hasn’t it?” He sighs.

“I’m exhausted,” Annabeth says.

“Me too,” he admits. “I think the last time I slept was after Star Wars and I had a nightmare about Emperor Palpatine,” he shudders at the memory.

“Good thing you had me to lean on for comfort,” Annabeth teases.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he shakes his head in denial. But he clearly remembers waking up with his head on her arm just as much as she does. She chooses not to remind him that she woke up in the middle of the night in the opposite direction.

“I can’t believe that was only yesterday,” she says.

He nods, then bumps his shoulder against hers. She leans against him, and for a few minutes they just watch the cars go by. Then she nudges him forward and stands up, offering him her hand.

“Let’s dance.”

“Here?”

“Well I was thinking inside, actually,” she laughs, nodding towards the door. “But why not?”

He shoots her a look, but stands and smooths his suit out. He takes one of her hands in his, and then places the other on her back. She brings her free hand up to rest on his shoulder. Neither of them moves.

“I don’t know how to dance,” he says sheepishly.

“I don’t either,” she admits, “I was just hoping you did.”

His eyes widen, “You thought I could dance because you don’t know how? You set us both up.”

They find themselves leaning into each other as they laugh. As they fall silent, neither of them move away again. His hand pressed against her back is the only thing she can think about.

“I can’t believe you came here,” she says, voice quiet.

“You came to find me first,” he says, and when he tilts her chin up to kiss her this time, it’s slow and sweet and she knows this one will be the one she always remembers. Because while the first two felt like endings, this one feels unquestionably like a beginning.

The rain starts to fall again, as they pull away she watches one big droplet land on his forehead and drip down his nose. Without thinking, she lifts her hand from his shoulder to wipe it away. He tracks her movement with his eyes, and then laughs at the horror on her face when she realizes what she’d done.

“We should go inside now,” he says, guiding her towards the door with the hand he’s yet to move from her back. She leads him up the steps, but when they get to the revolving door, he stops. She turns to look at him for an explanation, but he just leans in to kiss her again.

“Alright, if the first one was a reunion celebration, what was that one?” she laughs. 

“Is it crazy for a guy to want to kiss a beautiful girl in the rain?” 

“I’ll have you know that a lot of people put a lot of effort into this beauty and the rain has already ruined it twice today, so we should really get inside before I make it a third time.” She pulls him through the door with her.

“No way,” he argues, lacing their fingers together like he did at the station in Denver. “You were always beautiful.”

She narrows her eyes at him like she wants to protest, and then decides against it. Instead her features soften a bit, and she asks, “Are you sure you’re up for a wedding right now?”

“Annabeth,” he gives her a blank look. “We were together for 3 days straight, and you never knew that my dad died.”

“Yes, you hid it very well.”

“You know why?”

She hesitates. “Why?”

“Because I was with you,” he tells her, “I felt better when I was with you. I feel better when I’m with you, present tense.”

She doesn’t say anything, just gives his hand a quick squeeze, and he squeezes hers back. 

They can hear the music even on the other side of the door, Annabeth takes a deep breath before pushing it open. Most of the tables are empty now, guests are swaying together to some old love song on the dance floor. 

He follows her past the tables, littered with empty champagne flutes being collected by wait staff while others pass by with more trays of them, and the half eaten cake at the back of the room. 

Annabeth glances around as they find a place on the dance floor, no longer embarrassed at the idea of people looking at her. The bridesmaids are not so subtly grinning and giggling at her, Michelle shoots her a wink over dad’s shoulder, as if to say I told you so.

This time, Percy offers her his hand, and when she takes it he pulls her close. 

“I thought you couldn’t dance,” she says into his shoulder. “You figured it out on the way in?”

She can almost hear the smile in his voice. “I just realized it’s not that hard when there’s music to follow, or–”

He cuts himself off and she pulls back just enough to look at his face, where he’s fighting back a smirk.

“...Or?”

“Or if it's with you,” he says.

“Very funny.”

“Did you know that psychology says two people are more likely to fall for each other when they’re forced into close proximity for an extended amount of time? It’s why people fall in love with their coworkers.”

She laughs and she can feel him laughing too. 

“Is that true?” she asks.

He shrugs. “I have no idea. It sounds right though, doesn’t it?”

“You’re making up statistics.”

“I thought science was all about hypotheses, what’s wrong with mine?”

She doesn’t bother to argue, just smiles against his shoulder, because just this once, she’d like to believe that he’s right.