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"Elaine?"
He cleared his throat and ruffled his hair into place, as if his ex-wife could see him through the receiver.
"No, dad. It's me. Serenity."
"Huh. Oh." He immediately let go of his beer can, then went for the mute button on the remote control. "Serenity." He made his voice friendlier, as if approaching a small animal. "How's my little girl doing?" He wondered how she looked like. If she was born in 1991, then that would make her 19? Or 20 years old?
"I'm fine, dad."
Her sentence fell flat. There was this awkward silence during which both were waiting for the other to speak. What could they talk about? The years spent together? Or the years spent without each other? He wondered what her life was like, and strained his ear in hopes that the background noise could tell him, since she might not want to do so herself. But he found plain, utter silence. Not even the soft whoosh of her breathing.
"I got a baby shower Wednesday night. It's a barbecue." Still that unnaturally even, strained voice.
Unsure of what to say, he let his eyes drift to the TV set, fazed out, and realized violently that he was going to be a grand-father. His tongue felt thick and pasty in his mouth. Then, like the heart in his chest, he decided to take a bold leap: "Serenity, about... I don't... I didn't know what I was doing. I wasn't all there."
On the screen, a car commercial.
On the line, that cryptical, controlled silence.
"It's at Connie's place. Mom's gonna be leaving at 5. You can come after that."
He heard her exhaling sharply into the receiver immediately before the line cut off.
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