P. Hoover - Solstice

“Lies,” my mom says again.

The questions from the crowd start fresh, but they’re halted at the sound of metal groaning on metal. I recognize the sound the second I hear it, and I know what will happen even before it does. The groan waxes, and then there’s a cracking sound. And we watch as a single shard of glass comes careening down from above and strikes Councilman Rendon directly through the head.

The day after Councilman Rendon’s death on national news, school is canceled. Crews have been cleaning up the city nonstop, but for the day, there is not supposed to be any travel to or from Chloe’s dome. We text back and forth a couple times, and it’s weird because she doesn’t even remember the hurricane. She just claims she’s tired, that she’ll see me tomorrow at school. She acts like she didn’t ask me to leave.

When I look outside the Botanical Haven, the Global Heating Crisis is back in full force. Temperatures are over one hundred and eight, and my mom’s been called in for an emergency city council meeting.

“Don’t let them elect you to be head of the council,” I say because I’m trying to gauge her reaction. Is she still convinced we’ll be moving? Since the hurricane and Councilman Rendon dying, she hasn’t mentioned my father.

“That is one thing you’ll never have to worry about.” Which I know is true. The head of the council gets far too much publicity.

My mom gives me a kiss on the forehead and makes me promise to lock the door behind her. She leaves, and I lock the door. I text Chloe again, but she sends me a text that stops me short.

“have a date. tell u about it l8r. ttyl”

A date? She can’t be with Reese. My fingers hover over the keypad, but I can’t bring myself to respond. Has Chloe been seeing Reese, and I’ve been too caught up in my own world to notice? I start and stop typing five times, and then give up entirely. Chloe and I need to have a long conversation. But I can’t do it if she’s with Reese. So I grab my tablet and pretend to read for the rest of the day even though my mind doesn’t focus on a single word. Chloe and Reese. I try to put it out of my mind.

My mom finally gets home close to five.

“They’re taking down the domes,” she says.

“Taking them down?”

“Deconstruction will start this weekend.” She walks upstairs and I follow her.

“Why?” I ask.

My mother almost smiles when she answers. “Some underground terrorist group delivered a threat. Said if the council didn’t stop destroying the atmosphere, they’d blow up the dome structure.”

I put this together in my mind. “So instead of waiting for the domes to be blown up, the city’s taking them apart first.”

My mom nods.

“What about the missiles?” I ask. If a terrorist group is against the domes, then they’re certainly against the missiles.

My mom grabs her hairbrush and starts pulling it through her dark hair. She brushes it first behind both ears, then only behind one.

“The missiles will still be on standby,” she says.

My mom fiddles with her hair some more and then moves to her jewelry box and pulls out a necklace I’ve never seen her wear.

“Are you going somewhere, Mom?”

She clasps the necklace and turns to face me. “How does it look?”

It’s a leaf with glittering green gems sparkling against her skin. “Gorgeous,” I say.

She gives herself one more look in the mirror and then turns to me. “Get ready.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going out for barbeque, Piper.”

My mom hates barbeque. She doesn’t eat meat. And we almost never go out. I tilt my head, trying to read her expression.

“Mom?”

Her eyes look past me. “What?”

“You hate barbeque.”

Her face is a mask, but there’s a certain light in it I never see. “So tonight I’ve changed my mind.”

I bite my lip while looking for more in her face. But there’s nothing there. Nothing she is willing to let me see. “Okay. Barbeque. Who with?”

My mom arranges the jewelry and bottles on her counter and then finally looks at me. “Your father, Piper. He can’t wait to meet you.”

Everything my mom’s ever told me about my dad starts spiraling around in my head. Because if he’s such a bad person, why is she bringing me to meet him now?

When we walk into Pok-E-Jo’s barbeque, the overwhelming aroma of smoked meat hits me; I focus on it to keep my mind off how nervous I am. I’m going to finally meet my father—something I’ve dreamed of since I was a little girl. And now it’s really going to happen. I close my eyes and suck in the smell, picking out the sausage, the brisket, and even the macaroni and cheese from the air.

I look over at my mom and see her nose is wrinkled up.

“Don’t you even like the smell, Mom?” I ask because I need to say something. My stomach is a ball of lead inside me.

“I had a bad experience with meat once,” she says. And I wonder if she’s as nervous as I am.

It’s dark already, and every single booth is taken. My heart skips a few beats as I scan the room, wondering if I can pick out my dad. My eyes settle on a man with a receding hairline and a pair of bright blue eyes staring at me. His hair is spiked and blond and looks like he should wear a hat to keep his scalp from burning. Even with his retreating hairline, he hardly looks thirty.

I turn to my mom and see she’s gazing at him, also. The ball in my stomach turns into an iron fist which begins to tighten. My father. The man sitting in the booth is my father. The lines of his face are familiar because they match my own. I open my mouth to say something, but my throat constricts.

My mom puts up her hand. “Let’s just get our food and sit down. The sooner we get this over with the better.”

I nod, not that I want to get the meal over with. After eighteen years of not even knowing who my dad is, I don’t want to rush the meal. I have a father, and he’s sitting in a booth waiting for me. He doesn’t look like a terrorist or a criminal. And he doesn’t look like a kidnapper either.

I manage to walk through the line, ordering my food without even thinking. My mom orders only a salad, holding my arm at the elbow the whole time. Like she’s afraid my dad’s going to snatch me away or something. It makes me feel like I’m five years old all over again.

I scoot into the booth, across from my father, and my mom slides in next to me. The red vinyl crunches under my legs as I cross them, and already I can feel it sticking to me and sweat forming. If the restaurant has eco A/C, they aren’t using it. Or maybe I’m just nervous. Or both.

My father looks over and cracks a grin which reaches far up his forehead. “You like the heat, Piper?”

It seems a funny question to be the first words spoken between my dad and me—simple chitchat about the weather.

I nod. “Yeah. I do. The hotter the better.” I reach across the table for the barbeque sauce. The sausage here is too dry without it. My hands shake, but I don’t want him to see I’m nervous. I want him to think I’m brave and independent and someone he should be proud of.

My father smiles. “Now that sounds like a daughter of mine.” He grabs a different bottle and passes it over to me. “Here, try this instead. It’s my own special blend.”

Before I can reach for it, my mom’s hand shoots out and grabs the bottle. “No.”

My mouth drops open. It’s barbeque sauce. What’s the big deal?

I watch my parents—my father raises an eyebrow and looks at my mom. She stares back, and it’s like she’s trying to shoot arrows out of her eyes. They stay there, locked in silent combat until finally my mother speaks.