Stella

“At least she got you to put some pants on.” Your daughter, Stella, remarks looking up at you from the bottom of the steps.

“I’m sorry, baby.” You immediately say upon seeing her. You pocket your phone and go down the steps to try and give her a hug. She raises her hand to tell you to not come any closer before you even reach the bottom step.

“I can smell you from here. Take a shower first and then I’ll think about giving you a hug.” she tells you with an obviously fake disgusted look on her face. You laugh a little at her half-joke, but you still don’t come any closer. You’re pretty sure a part of her means it since, now that she’s mentioned it, you do smell of cigarettes and **** right now.

Instead, she closes the distance and comes to you, hugging your waist and resting her head on your stomach, due to the height difference caused by the steps. “I’m sorry if I called you an asshole” she apologizes.

“I deserved it, baby. I needed that wake up call.” You tell her, patting the top of her head, as you’re unable to return the hug at this height difference.

“I’ve been trying to give you a wake up call for a whole week now, Dad.” She punches you playfully on the thigh. “I kinda knew you’d flake from picking us up when you weren’t answering my texts.”

Damn. You’ve been so lost in your own feelings and booze this past week (okay, more like the past couple of months, you admit to yourself) that you forgot to check your phone at all.

“A part of me still believed you’d be there though. I didn’t want to think a few months of bullshit would break you. I still believed that my Dad, who was always there for me, who was beaming with pride like an idiot when he dropped me off to college just a year ago, was still there and would still push through and show up.”

“Instead…” she doesn’t finish the thought. Maybe stopping herself from further saying something hurtful, knowing full well the reason why you were acting this way. “I really didn’t think the divorce would turn you into… into...”

“This.” You finish her sentence for her. “I’m sorry for disappointing you, baby. It’s —” your legs falter a little. Maybe the **** mixed with fatigue has finally gotten to you. You try to hold the railing but your legs buckle and you’re **** to sit down on the step. The sudden movement makes your daughter react “Dad!”

She was hugging you, but her strength was unable to support you from falling, so she fell on top of you instead.

“Are you okay, baby?” you ask her.

“What do you mean ‘am I okay?’ Are YOU okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine…” you try to wave her off but she cups your face with both her hands, making you stare at her. “Dad.” she says pleadingly. In that one word, there’s a whole lot of things that remain unspoken, but you know she just wants you to be honest with her.

“It’s been a rough few months baby” you finally admit, not just to her, but to yourself as well. Tears begin to flow from your eyes. She hugs you, her arms wrapping around your neck and her head resting on your shoulders. You notice she’s crying now too. You return her hug, and hold her tightly against your body. Maybe it’s been a rough few months because she wasn’t here to support you; to remind you that it’s not the end of the world. You both take a moment, for the first time since the divorce was finalized, as father and daughter.

“I love you Dad,” she finally says, breaking the silence between you two. It takes you by surprise. Before you could say you love her too, she continues, “I’ll always be here for you. Like you were there for me... before all this.” she pauses to sniff.

“So, please please please, get your shit together.” Her words make it harder for you to breathe now too, as you swell with emotion.

“I can’t lose you.” she adds, and you’re full on ugly crying now. You bury your face in her shoulder and let the tears flow through you. You take a mental note to take her shopping for a new top, since you’re pretty sure what she’s wearing is ruined now with your snot.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like that on that stoop. Luckily, no one was entering or leaving the building, and people walking across the street paid you no mind.

“We could’ve had this talk sooner,” she finally says, wiping her eyes as she looks at you with a tearful smile. “Answer your goddamn phone next time” she tells you, playfully pounding your shoulder to emphasize her command.

“You could’ve called the landline, you know” you answer playfully, a smile returning to your face now too. She jokingly rolls her eyes as her response.

“Actually, you might not have a choice other than the landline since I think my phone has a virus” you tell her.

“What?” she raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “Show me.”

You both stand up, and you take the phone out of your pocket. Just like earlier, the screen is black except for the Affection Multiplier app. You tap the app to open and it shows the last screen you were on, which was Cassie’s profile. It has a photo of her, with her name, as well as the three types of scores she supposedly has regarding you.

“I don’t know what this is, but it has a profile about you and Cassie on it” you tell her. “I can’t open any other app on my phone. Including the part where I can use it as a phone. I wanted to call you when you weren’t here on the stoop”

You show her your phone’s screen with Cassie’s profile on it. She looks at your phone’s screen, then at you, then back at the phone.

She raises an eyebrow in confusion.