The soft hallway light peeks through a crack in the door, stirring me awake. I hear the faint sound of flats shuffling along the hardwood floor and wonder who is in my room. My hazy eyes blink, heavy with morning exhaustion and I groan, twisting under the sheets.

The figure moves closer toward me, their small frame resting on the edge of the bed. Although I have yet to glance at them, their familiar aura soothes me. Their gentle hand runs through my disheveled black curls and I melt to her touch, suddenly aware of the woman beside me.

"Nessie! I missed you," I hum, sitting up in bed. She smiles at me before pulling me into a long embrace. I rest my chin on her shoulder and the two of us rock back and forth for a moment.

"I missed you too," Nessie replies, rubbing her hands along my back. It feels as if my mom is holding me, and I let myself buy into the fantasy for a split second, relishing in the warmth of the woman that vanished from my life.

***

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," Nessie says while sipping down a mug of coffee. The two of us sit across from each other in the cafeteria. I'm swallowing the last bite of buttered toast on my plate, a light breakfast amid the excitement of Nessie's visit. Sabina and André have already departed the cafeteria, but not without introducing themselves to my aunt. She welcomed them with a radiant smile, overjoyed that I've made some friends.

Before I can respond, Nessie explains, "When I'm not looking for a job, I'm visiting your father at rehab. He's been going through withdrawals and, naturally, it's been a nightmare."

The mention of my father makes the air grow cold, and Nessie can sense the icy tension.

"He asks about you. It's the first thing he asks about every time I visit."

I scoff, rolling my eyes at Nessie. If my father really cared about me, he wouldn't have spent all those years trying to escape the world through the prick of a needle.

"Paris," Nessie sighs, as if she can read my mind, "Your father does cares about you."

I push my empty plate across the table and sit back in my chair, remaining mute. Rather than giving up, Nessie persists, "Why can't you forgive him like you forgave me?"

Nessie doesn't seem to understand. I will always view her through a different lens than my father. Nothing she or my father says will change that.

"Because you're not my father!" I shout, alarming some of the other patients sitting around us. Nevertheless, I continue, "You're not my parent! It wasn't your job to care for me!"

For a moment, Nessie sits back and considers what to say next. Eventually, she peers into me with her soft blue eyes and says, "You may not be my son, but it's still my job to care for you. Before your mom died, she trusted me and your father to look out for you. I let her down. And I may never forgive myself for that."

Nessie's right, to a certain extent. She wasn't there for me when I needed her the most, but it never stung as much as watching my father ignore my anguish while living under the same roof.

"You're right. You should've been there for me. But at least my suffering wasn't right in your face."

"I guess you're right."

Tired silence falls over our conversation, neither of us sure how we should proceed. Nessie finishes her coffee while I recall all the times I caught my father unabashedly shooting up in the bathroom. He never even had the decency to protect the little bit of innocence I had left. Three years ago, a distracted driver ran a red light and I lost my mom. Soon after, when I discovered his addiction, I lost my father too.

"Life is short, Paris. I don't expect you to forgive your father anytime soon, but at least give him a call. You two can't reconcile without communicating."

"What if I don't want to reconcile."

"Then a part of you will always regret it."

After planting a swift kiss on my head, Nessie departs Neo, leaving me alone with nothing but my thoughts.