It should not surprise him that he is a horrible father, but the truth of it still burns—enough that he grimaces at her words, cursing inwardly at himself for being so selfish as to not ask about her. Of course he had only been concerned with his own situation; of course he had dragged her into it and asked her to keep yet another secret. Was he surprised that he burdened even his own child with his suffering? Was he surprised that he would add yet more weight to her shoulders before even inquiring about her own?
“I don’t know, Malis,” he said and his voice is laced with a marrow-deep fatigue. “I wish she did.” But she admits to carry his burden and he loves her for it at the same time that he loathes himself. “Thank you.” He sighs and pulls her close to him, relishing in the silence and the sweetness of being with his family, even if he had to do it in secret and in the middle of the night. It was at least something. It was something he could hold on to.
Her next words tear at him, each syllable carving a new hole. “Malis,” he says with a broken voice, “I wish I could tell you how.” But he himself didn’t know how to live with this weight on his shoulders; he didn’t know how to carry on with this agony dragging him down. What source of knowledge could he possibly be for his daughter?
What wisdom could he impart?
So he doesn’t bother pretending that he could. He just closes his eyes to steady himself before opening them, his expression vulnerable and aching. “Why are you blue?” A deep breath. “Please tell me.” Even though he has never given her one good reason to trust him.
MAKAI
I'm a dead man walking here,
but that's the least of all my fears