I SAT IN front of the phone, smoothing down the folded napkin from the diner in Los Angeles. I’d pulled a chair from the dinner table up to the kitchen counter and heard it creak as I sat up in it. I picked up the phone. I double-and triple-checked the numbers before I dialed them with shaky fingers.
What if my dad wasn’t there? What if he was stuck in traffic coming home from someplace? What if he gave me the wrong number and I was dialing some random person in Los Angeles? And then he’d move and I’d never see him again—
“Hello?”
I slumped back in relief.
“Um, hi,” I said. I cleared my throat. “Hi, Dad.”
Cripes, it sounded so weird. I’d spent years dreaming about just this moment. And now I could hardly bring myself to call him Dad.
“Hi, Benji.” It felt strange to hear his voice right next to me and not be able to picture him. Where was he? Was he, too, at the kitchen counter, stretching the cord on the phone? Was he looking out over the Los Angeles skyline? Was he dressed up in a fancy suit, off in his studio, surrounded by colored pencils and markers and drawing paper? I could imagine it: the bright lights shining down upon him and the slabs of paper, the mess of acrylic colors on his desk. Because of course his desk would be messy. “I was hoping you’d call.”
I nodded, and then realized he couldn’t hear it over the phone. “Yeah. I wanted to.”
A pause. “How are you doing, kid?”
I swallowed. “I’m . . . doing okay, I guess. Just kinda busy.” I racked my brain for something, anything, to say. “Mostly science fair stuff with Ro.”
“I thought science fair was three weeks ago?”
“Ro and I qualified for the state fair. It’s in a few weeks.”
“Oh, wow,” he said softly. I could hear the grin in his voice. “Looks like you guys made it on time after all.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That was a crazy night.”
“I bet it was.” Another pause. “And how’s your mom and brother doing?”
“Good,” I said. “Mom’s working as always. She seems a little happier now, though. And Danny’s doing great. With baseball and all.” I paused. “I gave him your number, too. I don’t know if he’s called you yet.”
When Mom had told Danny about Dad pitching in for college during dinner, he’d scowled a little bit and pushed his fork around the pasta Mom had made.
Mom had looked at him. “I know that things have been complicated with him, but we should be grateful that your father’s helping out.”
He set his fork down. “He should have been helping out a long time ago.” And then he didn’t say anything for the rest of dinner. There seemed to be a wall that Danny had built up between him and Dad. We all knew. Even Dad could tell.
“He’ll come around to it.” Dad sighed. “If he wants to.”
This time there wasn’t just a small pause. The silence stretched on. My neck prickled with sweat. How did this room suddenly feel so warm? I could almost feel the walls closing in. My throat got tighter. It was that feeling again. The feeling when you were in an elevator with a stranger and couldn’t find a single thing to say.
Except this stranger was my father.
It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. We’d met. We’d made up. We’d already had a long talk in Los Angeles. It was supposed to get easier from then on. When did the inside jokes start coming? The conversations on the way to picking up burgers and shakes at a drive-through?
What if it would never get easier?
“Benji?” my dad said from the other side of the phone. “You still there?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry. I guess this is . . . kinda hard for me. I don’t know.”
He didn’t talk for a while. My palms were clammy. What if Dad just gave up? Hung up the phone?
What if we never talked again?
“I know it must be hard,” Dad said, exhaling. “I know things . . . aren’t going to be the easiest. We haven’t seen each other for years. I didn’t reach out when I should have.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“But it’s good to talk,” Dad said. “I’ve dreamed about this for a long time. I hope we can still try to . . . have these calls. Even if it’s difficult. And maybe things will get better over time.” He paused. “That is, if you want.”
I had to take small steps. But they were steps nonetheless.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah. I do.”
“And I would love to see you again, too.”
“Yeah. That would be kinda neat.” I took a deep breath. “How’s the movie coming along?”
I could almost hear him relax. “Oh, it’s doing just fine. It’s amazing seeing all those billboards, you know. Kind of out of this world. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. But I guess now that the movie’s premiered and all that, I’m focusing on sketching out the next issue.”
I perked up. “Are we going to find out the secret of the alternate universes? Or Woz’s origin story?”
“What do you think? Got any ideas?”
I was floored.
“Are you asking . . . for my ideas on the next issue of Spacebound?”
“Why not? Can’t promise I’ll use all of ’em, but I’m definitely all ears.”
I grinned. But then a thought occurred to me. “Actually . . . I’ll let you surprise me with this issue. I can’t wait to read it.”
He laughed. “Sounds good, Benji.”
“But . . .” An idea had come to me. A crazy, out-of-this-world idea. “Let’s say I was thinking about making my own comics. Got any pointers?”
“Of course,” he said. “I’d love to help.”
He was right. This wasn’t going to get easy anytime soon. But the weight on my chest was letting up. We were talking. And for now, I was okay with that.