Gone, Gone, Gone by Hannah Moskowitz Read Free Book Online Page A

say we have a special bond just because of that, but we do, I think. I think I’m a relief for him, like an oasis among all the girls. We sit and watch football together. I haven’t told him I’m gay, but he’s probably figured it out. If he hasn’t, I don’t think it’s going to be a big deal to him, as long as I assure him we can still watch football.
    In a way, my role for him has changed. Now most of the girls are gone, since Mom left and the big girls are at college.The single-parent situation, even with only three kids here, is hard for Dad. These things mean that I feel now like less of a respite for Dad and more like just another person bearing down on him. So I have to use that bond to our advantage.
    Music comes pouring in as soon as Dad opens the door, because my little sister, Michelle, is watching MTV in the living room. My dad shuts the door and the noise blurs out. I don’t know why he doesn’t tell her to turn it down or watch TV that has people wearing clothes.
    “Hey, Lio.”
    I smile at him.
    “How’s school?” he asks me. He peeks under my hat and laughs a little. “Look at your hair.”
    “Sorry.”
    “Don’t apologize to me. You’re the one who has to walk around like that.”
    “School’s fine.”
    “Good to hear.” He aims his gaze toward the living room. “I think Michelle’s having a rough time making friends.”
    That doesn’t make much sense. Michelle is bubbly. She and Jasper both—though Jasper had issues at her last school because of some boy dating her and this other girl at once. So she was excited to move. Michelle was apathetic, I think.
    “She misses New York, I think,” Dad says. My dad has the collar of his shirt unbuttoned and his tie loose around his neck. He’s gained too much weight. His stomach’s hiding his belt buckle, and Ican see his shoulders move when he breathes, just from climbing the two flights of stairs to our apartment. “But at least Jasper’s happy, and God knows that’s a victory worth celebrating. Did you go jogging today?”
    I nod. Jogging and singing are my two favorite things, but singing doesn’t make a good recreational activity unless you like being annoying. Which I do not.
    “How far?” he asks me.
    “Five miles,” I say.
    “And how fast?”
    I like when Dad leads me. I hate when anyone else does. “Thirty-nine minutes.”
    “Way to go, kid.” He puts his hand on top of my hat. His hand is so big that he could palm my skull like a basketball and lift it right off my shoulders. He could tuck it under his arm and bring me with him everywhere.
    “I miss New York,” I say. The moment felt right somehow.
    He looks at me, his eyes suddenly soft. These are the moments I love best with my dad. When I stop being his boy and I can just be his kid. We stop acting like men. That’s the special part. I think the girls are always his girls.
    He says, “You do?”
    I nod.
    I miss feeling strong and defiant. There’s something about beinga NYC native that means you have a lot less to prove.
    Dad says, “Was the anniversary hard for you?”
    There are a lot of anniversaries he could mean. His and Mom’s, their third since they separated, was last week. My sisters and I took him out for dinner but didn’t talk about it. I think that was exactly what he wanted.
    My no-more-chemo thing was actually yesterday, but I think Dad probably forgot about that. It’s a stupid thing to celebrate. My brother died on March 8th, and we always visit his grave and the children’s hospital, and that serves as the day we think about how glad we are that the cancer’s gone.
    So I know what anniversary he means.
    “No one here understands,” I say.
    Dad says, “They had the Pentagon.”
    I shrug. It’s not the same.
    It’s numbers. Just like chances are Craig isn’t going to get shot, the chances are that if someone died in September 11th, they died in New York, not in Washington, D.C. It’s just numbers.
    It makes sense, then, that the