MY DAD RAN out of the theater doors.
“Wait up!” he shouted. Cameras flashed as paparazzi followed him. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw all of us, probably confused that I had somehow multiplied into four people: me, Ro, her mom, and Mr. Voltz. “Listen,” he said breathlessly. “I’m sorry I took so long. If you want to talk now, let’s talk.” He checked his watch. “I might have to be somewhere at eleven, but—”
And then his lips were still moving, but I couldn’t hear anything he was saying. My stomach turned over. Suddenly it was like I was seeing him in a new light, and now, I hated everything about my father. I hated how famous he was. I hated his movie-star smile and fancy suit and even fancier watch that he kept checking as if he hadn’t just made me stand outside the theater for more than two hours. The long minutes had stretched into half an hour, and then an hour, and then after that I’d finally lost track of time.
I straightened up. “You know what?” Heat rose to my cheeks. “I don’t want to waste your time. Go to your fancy party or whatever it is. I’m leaving.” I picked up my sketchbook from the ground and threw it into my backpack.
“Wait! Benji, I thought you wanted to talk through everything.”
“I did.” I spun around. “And then I got kicked out of your premiere. You didn’t even look at me twice and you made me stand out here, waiting for forever—”
“Look, I’m sorry about that. But maybe it wasn’t the best idea to come in the middle of my premiere—”
“Well, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to walk out on my mom and brother and me, either!”
My dad’s expression froze. The camera shutters were furiously clicking away. Ro was behind me, and I could practically hear her jaw drop.
I absolutely, positively could not believe I’d just said that. But I wasn’t going to take it back.
I straightened up, shaking a little. And then I picked up my backpack. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Benji.” His expression softened. He looked shaken. His hands dropped to his sides. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I know I must have been acting like a jerk tonight. And, well, in general. For the past nine years. But let me talk to you. Please. I want to explain everything to you. Even if it takes all night. It’s the least I can do.”
I stayed put. I looked back at Ro, her mom, and Mr. Voltz. Ro glared at my dad and glanced at me, and she gave the tiniest shrug, as if to say, Up to you.
A camera flashed.
“Look,” my dad said. “Can we at least go somewhere more private?”
We ended up all going to a tiny diner a few blocks down, the kind that had grimy checkered tile floors and bright blue seats and tables with permanent ketchup stains. But my dad wanted to talk somewhere quiet, and at least the place wasn’t crowded like every other café. On our way in Ro’s mom stopped at a pay phone to tell my mom I was safe, and I felt awful. I walked with my dad, and Ro with her mom and Mr. Voltz. None of us talked.
I followed my dad to the booth in the corner. We sat. The booth chairs were deep, so the table came up to the middle of my chest. It made me feel like a kid. My dad insisted on getting me a shake and fries, even though I told him I wasn’t hungry.
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “So.”
I stared down at my fries. I didn’t want to look up. If I looked him in the eye, this would finally feel real and not like a strange dream.
But I did.
This was David Allen Burns. The artist behind my favorite comic book series ever. I used to think that he was powerful. Invincible. I had built him up so much in my head, he might as well have been ten feet tall and wearing a cape or something. But under the bright lights, I could see the shadows under his eyes. His bow tie was crooked. Like Mom, he had wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. With his sleek suit, he looked out of place among all the bright aqua-blue fake-leather booths. He didn’t look very much like a star, really. He just looked like any other middle-aged guy.
I wondered if I would look like that when I grew up.
He pushed a hand through his light, unruly hair. “I cut my Spacebound premiere short because I wanted to talk to you.”
What was I supposed to do, give him a medal?
“Sorry.” He closed his eyes. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. What I meant was . . . thanks for coming, Benji.”
I thought of what to say. Like, Thanks for showing up. You know, because he actually did show up after the premiere like he’d promised. But I could just as easily have said, Thanks for not showing up for the past nine years, and it would have been equally true.
So I just mumbled, “Sorry for crashing your movie.”
“No, I’m glad you did,” he said. “Really. And I’m sorry I reacted badly to it. I just . . . there were so many people, and I just forgot how to act.” He smiled a little bit. “I guess you don’t ever really expect your long-lost kid to turn up at your movie premiere.”
Okay, he had a point.
“I guess I owe you an explanation. About why I’ve been away.” This wasn’t easy for him, I could tell. He fiddled with a packet of salt. “Your mom’s probably going to tell you most of this. I don’t know how much she’s told you already.”
“Nothing,” I said. “Just that you left.”
He winced.
“What happened?”
“Your mom and I . . . we used to disagree a lot, when you and Danny were little. On everything, really. And then I wanted to quit my job to become an artist. And I wanted to move to LA. But she wanted to stay in Sacramento, and she didn’t like that I’d quit my job. And we were fighting so much so I just . . .” He exhaled. “Left, I guess.”
“For nearly ten years.”
“I handled everything badly,” he said. “Your mom and I separated and I went to LA. At first I was such a mess and didn’t have any money to support myself, let alone support you guys. I was looking for jobs. And your mom and I were still fighting. And then she told me not to call anymore. She moved and didn’t give me her number, and then I couldn’t call even if I wanted to. And it just seemed like you didn’t need me in your lives anymore.”
There was a knot in my stomach.
What, did he just think we’d forget about him? How could I? It was impossible to forget about him every time Mom set the table for three every holiday. Or every time people around me whispered divorce like it was a dirty word. Or every time I went over to Amir’s house for dinner and his whole family was around the table.
How many times had I imagined having a dad around? He would have taught me how to draw. He would have played Bob Dylan on the cassette player and left his desk messy. He would have gone to Danny’s baseball games.
I said, “But I did need you.”
“I’m so sorry, Benji.” He leaned forward. “I want to fix this.”
This was the moment. He’d reach across the table. He’d ask to come back into our lives and—
But I didn’t know if that was what I even wanted anymore. I’d once imagined a hundred different ways my dad would come back. But I was angry now. I said sharply, “You married someone else.”
He flinched. “I did,” he said. “A year ago. Look, kid,” he said gently. “Your mom and I aren’t getting back together. You knew that, right?”
I nodded. Still, it stung more than I thought it would.
“But I’ve missed you guys. I think about you all the time, believe it or not. And I just want to be there for you and Danny.”
I thought of what Danny had said to me before Christmas. I used to cry myself to sleep every night. I waited years for him to come back.
“If you missed us, you would have found a way to visit us,” I said sharply. I looked up at him. “Do you even know how hard it was to track you down? But I did. I came all the way to Los Angeles, and you didn’t even want to talk to me.”
My dad shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. He looked ashamed of himself. “I don’t know what to say.”
If I wanted to, I could have stood up and stomped out of this diner and away from my dad forever. I could have run over to where Ro and her mom and Mr. Voltz were sitting and asked to go and not look back. I could walk out of his life the way he walked out of mine.
My dad was never meant to be some hero or creative genius who left clues for me in his comics. He was just some guy who married my mom and then left us. That was all.
I glanced over at the other table and locked eyes with Ro for a split second before she looked down. I turned back. I took one deep breath. Then another.
He was my dad. And he was alive. He was here.
“You got a pen?” I asked.
He nodded and pulled a fountain pen from his pocket. I reached over for a napkin and wrote our phone number down.
“You can call me sometime,” I said.
He grinned, relieved. “I’ll do that.”
“Promise?”
He reached his hand over the table and I shook it.
“Now spit on it to make it official.”
He looked horrified.
“Kidding,” I said. “Why does everyone fall for that?”
He leaned back. “Now tell me,” he said, tucking the napkin in his pocket. “How exactly did you find me?”
I grinned. “Long story,” I said. “But I found you through your comic books. I didn’t even know that you’d written them. But then I found some artwork around the house that matched yours. And then I tried to look through your comic books for some clues because you weren’t in the phone book. And then I thought you were in New York, but you weren’t. And then I found out that your movie was premiering here.” I shrugged. “Pretty simple, actually.”
He laughed. “I didn’t exactly make it easy to find me, did I? I mean, I live here in LA, but you made a decent guess. That’s pretty good detective work.”
“It wasn’t all me,” I admitted. “My friend Ro over there was the one who helped me figure a lot of it out. She found the newspaper article about your premiere.” I looked over at the other table, where Ro was staring down, her head in her hands. I felt a twinge in my chest. “Actually . . .” I turned back to my dad. “Would it be all right if I talked to her for a bit?”
He took a deep breath and then relaxed his shoulders. “Sure thing, kiddo.” He got up. “I’ll get her. If you need me, I’ll just be over there with . . .” He looked over at Mr. Voltz and Ro’s mom, puzzled. “I take it those are your friend’s parents?”
“Well, her mom. And then there’s Mr. Voltz, the guy Danny works for. He’s real friendly, actually.”
He nodded. “Got it.” Before he stood, he scribbled something down on a napkin and handed it to me. “And that’s my phone number if you need it. Call me anytime.”
I gingerly folded the napkin and tucked it into my pocket. “I will.”