I’m cold again, and it has nothing to do with the water. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“How long do you think you’ve been here?”
He frowns again, lines forming on his forehead. I can tell he’s thinking, because his tongue appears between his lips, a thing he’s done since I can remember. He twitches his fingers on my shoulder and moves his lips, like he’s counting, or at least trying to. It’s taking longer than I think it should, and the unease gets stronger. “Four months?” he finally says, sounding dubious. “Maybe a little bit longer?”
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak until I have some sense of control. I swallow past the lump in my throat. “It’s been five years,” I say.
“No,” he whispers. “That’s impossible.”
It’s improbable, a voice whispers in my head.
“Trust me, it’s not,” I say, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “You… died five years ago.”
“It’s… you’re twenty-one now?” He sounds shocked.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve missed… I….” He slowly drops his hand from my shoulder as he looks back to his reflection in the water.
“You didn’t know?”
He shakes his head. “The River Crosser, he told me time could be a bit… funny here. I didn’t listen to him because there were other things on my mind. He warned me about a lot, I guess. I just didn’t listen. I had to….”
“Had to what?”
“Protect you,” he whispers. “I had to make sure you were okay. I was so scared for you, Benj. I was angry with myself because I couldn’t be there to protect you like I wanted to. I tried to do the right thing, and it got me….” He stops himself before he can say the word we’re both thinking. “I didn’t do my job as a father. My priority since you were born has always been you, and I let myself get distracted. I’m sorry, Benji. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” I tell him. “You did what you thought was right.”
“But you said you were mad.”
I shrug, looking away. “I was. Maybe I still am. But… I don’t know if it’s at you anymore. I don’t know if I can be mad at you when you’re sitting right here next to me.” I take a deep breath, steeling myself. Even though I know his answer, I still have to ask. “Did you miss me? Because I sure missed you.”
“Every day, boy,” he rumbles as he wraps his arm my shoulder again, pulling me tight. “Every damn day, which is apparently longer than I thought. A second hasn’t gone by when I haven’t thought of you.”
“That’s why you stayed? When the others left?”
“Yes,” he says simply. “Are you really twenty-one now?”
“Yeah.”
“My God, you’re a full-grown man.”
“I guess so.”
Silence.
“Dad?”
“Yes, son?”
“I heard your promise. To Cal.”
“I know. I tried very hard to show you.”
“The dreams? That was you?”