The Cover Age, Chapter 11

The regularly-scheduled handoff approaches. Clive doesn’t really think anything of it. He’s gotten used to having his daughter in his life and then not. At first it caused him considerable misery, when he didn’t have her, because he’d gotten used to having her in his life, more misery without her than over the ex. Even if he didn’t exactly know how to appreciate his daughter, he still knew that he did.

This happens soon after replacing the glasses. They share a few more smiles over them, Clive wiggling the frames in an unnecessary effort to emphasize them, and then she’s gone, Clive watching as the car pulls out of the driveway, watching as the car drives down the street, Clive watching as it finally disappears out of sight...

This is always the difficult moment, but for some reason it feels worse this time.

Then he heads back inside. He hasn’t been able to work on his writing projects in weeks. He wonders if subconsciously that’s why he feels simultaneously annoyed with his daughter and appreciative of her presence, why he so easily slipped into taking it for granted, letting her exist, for all intents and purposes, in a different world, a different room, virtually the whole time he has with her, why he snapped, why he finally began to wonder if he was in fact the bad parent, and perhaps even the reason why all this happened in the first place.

He boots up the notebook and opens a file, hoping to be inspired. He knows he needs to do some editing, but instead begins dropping in more material, hoping that later he’ll feel more motivated. Sometimes he feels as trapped by the anthologies as the mess he’s made of his family.

He doesn’t think anything of switching on the radio, doesn’t think anything of the expectedly mundane banter between hosts. Glosses over recent developments in the emerging pandemic. Briefly notes that they’re cancelling sporting events. Doesn’t faze Clive, as he never attends them anyway.

Bored, Clive begins surfing the internet, checking in with blogs.