“Dad,” Dakota calls out from the kitchen. “Close your eyes; we have a surprise for you.”

“Did the pizza come when I was in the shower?”

“No, the delivery guy hasn’t come yet.”

“I’m coming to the kitchen.”

“No,” they both call out.

I fall onto the couch and wait to see what Dakota and Drix have up their sleeves. We usually have dinner together every few nights, but both Drix and I said we had good news to share, and we wanted Dakota to be here.

The bond between them surprises me each day. On more than one occasion Dakota reveals how Hendrix has spent years telling her stories from our childhood and making sure she knew everything about me, even if I wasn’t here in the flesh.

“Okay, we’re coming. Close your eyes.”

I entertain the charade, and wait for them to give me more instructions. I feel the couch dip, and the shuffling of Dakota settling near my feet. “Okay, Dad give me your hands.”

She places a box the same size as my hands in my open palms. “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Yep. Uncle Drix give me my camera, quick.”

Dakota is obsessed with photos, but not just with the social media aspect of it like most kids her age. She loves capturing the moment. And she does it well.

“Ready? she asks, excitement in her tone.

I nod.

“Now open.”

My eyes gravitate to the box immediately. It’s a new Apple iPhone. Sitting up properly, I swing my legs off the couch, and Dakota rushes to be by my side. I wrap my arms around her shoulders. “This is too much.”

“Can we open it?” she asks, ignoring my statement.

I look up and see Drix watching me with trepidation. “Dakota wanted to be able to contact you at all times, and to teach you to take photos.”

“So, it’s all your fault is it?” My head tilts in her direction.

“Absolutely. Can we stop the chit chat and open it now?”

“You’re going to have to show me how it works. It looks ridiculously complicated.” The doorbell sounds. “But first, pizza.”

We sit around the dining table, a box in front of each of us. There’s no sharing food in this house.

“I have some good news,” I announce. “You know I’ve been looking for jobs, and a few recruitment places finally got back to me.”

“What will you do? When do you start?”

I laugh at Dakota’s infectious excitement. “I’ll go to their office on Monday to sign papers and start on Tuesday. It’s nothing too flashy, just some factory work. But it’s consistent. Same hours, same days, and I can do overtime.”

“That’s great bro. I guess the phone was perfect timing,” he says with a smirk.

“Now, what’s your good news?” I ask.

“It’s actually more good news for you.”

I narrow my eyes at him, completely clueless about what he’s about to say.

“Well, Stacey and I spoke to our regional manager, and we think it would be great for you to do a few speeches at the centre.”

I furrow my brow in uneasiness. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Absolutely. Those kids listened to you the other day, and unfortunately, your story could be their story. I think you could make a difference.”

“I think it’s great, Dad,” Dakota chimes in. “Then people will get to know the real you.”

“The real me?”

“Yeah, kids at school always think that people who were in jail aren’t good people.”

I straighten my back, worry that Dakota is struggling at school because of me. “You talk about jail with other kids?”

“No.” She puts her head down.

“Hey, hey, why the face? What happened?” I glance at Hendrix, taking in his shrug. “You can tell me anything. Or if you don’t want to talk to me, your uncle and Mum are always there to listen.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you.”

I walk around the table and crouch before her. Reaching for her chin with my thumb and forefinger, I raise her head, guiding her eyes to meet mine. “What is it?”

Her expressive eyes are filled with compassion, their concern matching the statement that leaves her mouth. “I don’t want it to upset you.”

“It won’t.”

“Promise,” she implores.

“I Promise.”

“Today, one of the girls I used to be friends with told everyone you recently came out of jail.” The words tumble out of her mouth like a confession, afraid of the consequences.

“Yeah.”

“But then they all started saying that you must’ve been bad to be there, and how you’re a bad dad.”

A tear escapes her eyes, and my thumb swipes it away. “Do you believe those things about me?”

“No.”

‘It’s okay, if you do,” I assure her.

“No. I don’t. I just don’t like how everyone thinks it’s their business.”

“That’s going to happen. Whether it’s about this or not, people just like giving their opinion. But I need you to know I only care what you think of me. Not everyone forgives as easy as you.”

“Like mum?” A sad smile graces her face.

“Like mum. But, she’ll come around. I promise.”

We spend the rest of the evening setting up my phone, and Dakota shows me all the different types of photos I can take and what filters I should apply. While I probably won’t use any of it, I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. She instructs me on how to add names and numbers to my phone, and I don’t have the heart to tell her not to worry, I’ll get the hang of it eventually.

By eight-thirty, Drix drives her home, leaving me alone. I pull up Sasha’s number that Dakota insisted on programming for emergencies and press the call button.

“Hello, Sasha speaking.”

“Hey, it’s Jagger.”

“What’s wrong? Is Dakota okay?”

“Yes, she’s fine.” Her borderline hysteria has me wondering if we’ll ever be able to move forward. “I’m calling to let you know this is my phone number now, and you can call me if you need to.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I also wanted to tell you Dakota mentioned some kids giving her a hard time about me being in jail.”

“What? I didn’t know about that,” she says defensively.

“I wasn’t accusing you of anything,” I clarify. “She seems okay, but it’s time, Sasha. I want to tell you everything you never let me explain before I got locked up. And I want Dakota to hear it too.”

Silence.

“Sasha.”

“Fine,” she huffs.

“Really?’

“I’m only doing it for her, Jagger.”

“That’s enough for me.”

* * *

“You really think it’s okay for me to come to this thing tonight?” Hendrix and I are driving to Stacey’s birthday dinner in the city, and my stomach is nauseous at the thought of being surrounded by people I don’t know.

“She invited you, remember?”

“That was before what happened.”

“I don’t think it would’ve made a difference. You might even get a repeat tonight.”

I don’t bother arguing with him or trying to explain the reasons why I would rather keep to myself than have a repeat with Stacey. After our encounter the other day, I could barely string two sentences together, let alone all the potential scenarios that could follow. I’ve played the dickhead when it comes to sex, it’s not a role I want to repeat. She and anybody else deserves more than that.

Walking into the restaurant, it’s obvious to see where Stacey and her guests are gathered. Standing around the long, wooden table, she greets each person as they arrive, and I’m thankful that my eyes notice the seats on either ends of the table to be free. We meet the birthday girl halfway, and she looks genuinely excited to see us.

“Well if it isn’t the sexiest twins in the southern hemisphere.” She leans in for a one handed hug that lasts a second too long. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for the invite.” We take our seats, and restaurant staff begin laying down an assortment of entrees across the length of a table. The smell of fried food permeates the air, and my mouth waters at the thought of devouring it. When it comes to eating, anything but jail food is a heavenly experience.

“Would anyone like something to drink?” A waiter appears at the end of our table, and all eyes are trained on him as each person rattles off their order. “And you, sir?”

“I’ll just have a Pure Blonde thanks.”

“Watching your weight?” Hendrix jokes.

“Seriously,” I give my arm a small flex. “I’ve worked hard at this figure.”

A hand wraps itself around my bicep and both Drix and I look behind us to see a slightly intoxicated Stacey crouching down.

“Having fun?” Hendrix asks her.

“Of course. I just came over to see your brother if that’s okay with you?”

Hendrix and I eye one another as she puts a hand over each of our shoulders, her head right in between us. Make it stop.

“I think I might be offended you’ve never put this much interest in me.” He tries to shift the attention, and I’m grateful for this twin telepathic bullshit we have. “I mean, we look exactly the same.”

“Yeah, but we’re more like siblings. Remember that time you farted in your car and tried to dutch oven me?” Laughs burst out of the three of us, and I’m grateful the direction of the conversation has changed. “Plus, my friend over there.” She points across the table at a red headed Barbie doll. “She’s into you.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce her to me?”

“Go talk to her yourself. I came here to talk to Jagger.” She twists her body toward me, ignoring Hendrix. “So, want to meet me at my place later?”

I casually look ahead, my whole body freezing at the sight before me. My body language clues Stacey in, and I feel her following my gaze.

Together we both look at Emerson. She’s laughing, her head back, carefree and radiant. I thought she was beautiful the few times I saw her, but without the washed out walls and constrictions of the prison around her, she’s ethereal.

Stacey insists on making her presence known, and her hands purposefully find my thigh. “I’ll make it worth your while,” she purrs.

Moving her hand, I let the noises around me drown out, and my focus is completely occupied by Emerson’s beauty. Watching her in her natural element is a privilege and a curse, a hint of what I could have and what I will be missing.  

Stacey’s hand finds the back of my neck, eager to remind me I’m not alone. Pulling me close, her lips find my ear, and my body tenses in protest. It’s in this moment Emerson’s eyes find mine. She flicks her gaze between Stacey and me, then drops her head in dejection. Plastering on a fake smile, Emerson continues to speak to the woman she’s with, doing her best to not let her eyes veer in my direction. Her friend turns around, recognition written all across her face. They exchange a few more words before Emerson shakes her head and looks at me with disappointment. She holds my stare, and Stacey’s grip on me becomes tighter. My eyes plead with her to see through this facade, for this not to be the way she remembers me.