I replay the bits and pieces of that devastating phone conversation from twelve years ago in my head. The call that severed any relationship with my father. All these years, I thought he bailed on me for something as seemingly trivial as his job. “Why didn’t you tell me that? I would have understood.”

“You were fourteen, Calla. You’d been begging me to visit for years. I’d been disappointing you for just as many. I figured the reason didn’t matter. Especially not when it involved someone else’s little girl. I didn’t know how to explain that to you. It was easier to blame it on Wild. At least you were used to that excuse.”

His words give me pause. I was fourteen and I was desperate to see him, to know that I mattered to him. No matter how solid his reasoning, would I have understood back then?

Do I even truly understand now?

“Did you tell my mother all this?” God, if she knew about this and didn’t tell me . . .

My dad shakes his head. “Your mother was . . . Things were complicated between us. They’ve always been complicated between us.”

Complicated. That seems to be the buzz word when it comes to my dad.

“Because she was still in love with you?” I ask quietly.

An awkward laugh escapes his lips. He gives the back of his shaggy-haired head a scratch, his gray eyes drifting to mine to linger for a moment, searching for something—what, I don’t know—-before returning to the pile of shoes. “What do you know about that?”

“Just what Simon told me. That he thought she was still in love with you and would leave him if there was hope of you guys getting back together.” I hesitate. “Was he right?”

He rubs at his furrowed brow. “Look, I don’t wanna be the cause of any rifts between you and your mom.”

“How would you cause a rift between us?” I ask warily.

He seems to struggle to gather his thoughts. “Your mother and I were never gonna fit. I knew that the moment I met her and yet she somehow convinced me otherwise. Hell, I wasn’t gonna argue with her. I knew she’d wake up one day and realize she was too good for me. Until then, I’d take what I could get. A woman like that . . .” He shakes his head more to himself, a small, secretive smile touching his lips.

“I wasn’t surprised when she packed you up and left. I was surprised she’d stayed that long to begin with. And I couldn’t beg her to stay, even though I wanted to. It wouldn’t have been fair to put her through that. I knew she’d never be happy here.”

“It wasn’t you she left, though.” If he’d been willing to start a life where they’d both be content, I wouldn’t be sitting across from a complete stranger right now.

“Alaska may be where I live, but it’s as much a part of me as anything. I can’t really explain it. This place, this life . . . it’s in my blood.” A frown touches my dad’s forehead. “Your mom called me after I told you I was coming to see you.”

“Oh, yeah?” I don’t remember her ever telling me that, but maybe she did and I’ve forgotten.

“It was quick, that first call. You know, to find out where I was thinking of staying, and for how long.”

Unease settles along my spine. He said that first call. “How many more times did she call you?”

He hesitates. “A few times,” he admits, in a way that tells me “a few” is far more than three in this case. “God, it was good to hear her voice again after so many years.” He studies his hands intently. “Problem was, it also stirred up a lot of feelings. It got confusing for a bit there. On both sides.”

“What do you mean?” I sink into my chair as my stomach clenches. What exactly is my dad telling me? “Were you and my mom having an over-the-phone affair?” Is that part of the reason why everything went to shit?

“Hold up, Calla. Just . . . wait a minute. Don’t read too much into it.” He holds his hands in the air in a sign of surrender, and then takes a moment to continue. “You both seemed to have a good thing going for you there, in Toronto. I didn’t want to mess it up for you or Susan, not when in the end, nothing had changed. I wasn’t going to be able to give either of you what you really wanted. I knew that, and she knew that.” He heaves a sigh. “So, after I canceled on the trip because of Mabel, I decided it was probably also time to finally bow out and let you both move on. And maybe it was the wrong decision. Lord knows I’ve made enough of those in my life. Can’t change any of them, though.” After a moment, he turns to give me a sad smile. “But maybe not. You seem to have grown up well.”

Thanks to Mom and Simon, I want to say.

Despite the fact that I can’t count the number of nights that I cried myself to sleep wondering why he didn’t care.

I’m still having trouble processing this. Why would anyone get involved with a person in the first place when they’re so sure it’s doomed to fail? Why get married and bring a human being into the world with them?

And, if you’re going to do it, why not at least try to make it work? I mean, I know that getting pregnant with me was an accident, but still.

My dad swaps the can for his plate and, setting it on his lap, begins cutting into his chicken. “So, how are things at home?”

“Uh . . . Fine. Good.” I stumble over my words, startled by how quickly my father has steered the conversation out of the trenches of the past to safe, smooth territory.