I could have walked forever, right out of the city, just another runaway. It probably wouldn’t even make the papers. I could get on a bus, or the subway- but all I had in my sopping wet pockets were library receipts and lint. It was a little unrealistic, if I was honest with myself.

I always feel like I’m missing something. I guess I am- my dad. The one part missing from our otherwise nuclear family. But who actually has a nuclear family anymore? That idea is buried along with innocence and fidelity.

Jackie never had much to say on the subject. She figured we were fine without him. I know, I know we can function, but is a father so much to ask for?

Sometimes I think of going up to men in the street- ones that would be about his age, or look a little like me. “Are you my father?” I could say, like a character in some children’s book. A very wet, very cold, very fatherless teenager.

But that’s about as likely as my dad coming back.