course of events. Her subconscious is extrapolating from that what it feels is an obvious, inevitable progression to your death. Thatâs the first dream. The second is a wish fulfillment. To stop what she perceives as normal, sheâs injecting another parent into the situationâÂsomeone else for death to take instead of you. A decoy, if you will.â
The counselor had gone on, but Jonathan had heard enough. It explained the matchmaking. And as far as he was concerned, the only fact that mattered was that he was responsible for this. If he had done a proper job as a father, he would have helped Natalie deal with her motherâs death better. Heâd obviously dropped the ball. And what was worse, he hadnât even noticed.
He still had no idea how to deal with the problem, so for now he was just trying to be more observant and not to discount any of Natalieâs thoughts and feelings. It was the reason heâd agreed to go on the date from hell.
âTalie, I ought to brain you,â Jonathan said. âDoes she talk that much in school?â He hung his coat up and kissed Natalie on the forehead. She was way too chocolaty to risk a hug.
âOf course she does. Sheâs a teacher!â
âHa-Âha. Very funny, missy,â he said, mussing her hair before he walked into the kitchen, Natalie padding after him in her bare feet. He took a brownie out of the fridge and chomped down on the much needed carbs. âDid you finish your homework?â he asked through his own chocolaty mouthful.
âMostly,â Natalie said. She finished her ice cream bar, tossed the stick in the trash, and hopped up on the counter beside the sink.
âMostly, huh? Mostly as in you thought about doing it, or you just need a little help?â
âSo, did you kiss her?â Natalie asked conspiratorially with a big grin.
âNatalie, answer the question.â
âThe second one. I just need your help with multiplying the stupid fractions.â
âOh, okay,â he said. He hated fractions but learned a long time ago that Natalie wasnât the only one going through the sixth grade. He had to relearn whatever she happened to be studying so he could help her do her homework.
âSo, did you?â Natalie asked again.
âDid I what?â Jonathan said innocently as he took the milk carton out of the fridge and washed down the brownie.
âDad! Yuck. Glass.â
âSorry,â he said, taking a glass down from the cupboard and pouring the milk into it. He saw that there were bits of brownie floating in it. He made a mental note to pick up milk.
âI donât understand how you guys couldnât get along,â Natalie said. âI mean, sheâs an artist and youâre a photographer. Thatâs kind of like an artist, right?â
âNot the way I do it,â Jonathan said under his breath. Heâd needed a job when heâd left his old life and since heâd typically written âphotographerâ on the customs forms when he was traveling back then, it seemed as good a choice as any. It didnât take long for him to learn that pretending to be something and actually being it were two very different colored horses. He was awful at it and now they made what money they could from portrait and passport photos.
âWhat?â
âI said itâs time for bed, kiddo.â He tickled Natalie all the way upstairs and after making her brush her teeth, kissed her good night and turned off her light.
âDad?â
âYes, honey?â
âDonât worry. Weâll find you someone.â
âJust get to sleep. Let me worry about me. And donât forget weâre doing your fractions in the morning.â
âEvil!â
Down in the kitchen, Jonathan poured himself a scotch and wandered into the living room to enjoy some solitude. He loved his life with Natalie, but there was something about the night, when it was
Stephen King, Stewart O'Nan