“Oh.” Ari slumped in her seat.
“You’re very special to him, though,” I said. “Like a little sister.”
She continued to look disappointed. “I wish he was my dad. My real dad.”
Instead of pointing out that Tommy would have had to father Ariel when he was twelve, I said, “I know what it’s like. Growing up wondering who your dad is.”
“But you know who your dad is.”
I frowned. “I do?”
“It’s Simon? Hel-lo?”
“Simon’s not my real father.” It amazed me that she hadn’t figured this out on her own. “He’s Japanese. I’m not.” Simon hadn’t even adopted me since my mother had never been around long enough to sign the papers.
“Oh, good point.” Ariel mulled this over while she drank her Coke. “Did you ever want to find your real dad?”
The difficult question made me shift uncomfortably. When I became an adult, I’d given up fantasies about finding my sperm donor, figuring I was better off without him. However, once I’d discovered that I could not only see Heaven’s doorways but enter them as well, I’d become curious again. Maybe my father had been one of the many humans my mother had slept with. Then again, maybe he’d been supernatural.
To answer Ari’s question, I settled on a compromise. “I used to want to find him, but after a while, I realized that Simon was the best dad a girl could have. Just like you’ll realize that Tommy is a really good substitute big brother.”
“He is a good big brother,” she said, “but he’d be a really great dad.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
Midway through our meal, Ariel got up to use the bathroom. The moment she left, someone slid into her seat. It seemed that the otherworld had caught up with me again.
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