She said it casually, almost as if it was nothing at all. ‘What?’ ‘Do you want a word with Dad?’
It took her a moment. She felt suddenly off-balance. ‘I—’ She could hardly speak. Or breathe.
She didn’t know what to say. Everything felt unreal. It was like time travel.
As though she had fallen through two decades. It was too late to respond because the next thing she heard was Nadia saying: ‘Here he is...’
Nora nearly hung up the phone. Maybe she should have. But she didn’t.
Now she knew it was a possibility, she needed to hear his voice again.
His breath first. Then: ‘Hi Nora, how are you?’ Just that. Casual, non-specific, everyday.
It was him. His voice. His strong voice that had always been so clipped.
But a little thinner, maybe, a little weaker. A voice fifteen years older than it was meant to be.
‘Dad,’ she said. Her voice was a stunned whisper. ‘It’s you.’ ‘You all right, Nora? Is this a bad line? Do you want to FaceTime?’
FaceTime. To see his face. No. That would be too much. This was already too much.
Just the idea that there was a version of her dad alive at a time after FaceTime was invented.
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