By the time Paige arrived home that evening, her brain buzzed with speculation. Allison worked in the kitchen preparing dinner while Justin read a book on the back porch sipping coffee in his robe and slippers. Paige wondered if he ever dressed for the day. Opening the sliding glass door, she sat down beside him and unleashed premeditated small talk, chattering about the crazy weather, the possibility of snow and marveling at south Texas’ unstable climate. Tropical one minute and arctic the next, she asked if the birds and the bees were sensitive to such changes. Lending half his ear, her father passively listened but kept most of his attention on the book, which appeared to be some sort of outdoor survival guide. Frustrated, Paige got to the point.

“How do you know the drummer for Limbo Diver?” she asked.

Justin readjusted positions in his chair and gazed at the overgrown lawn. “What’s that, honey?” he asked, removing his glasses.

“Billy Faraday,” she said, “how do you know him?”

Her father sipped his coffee, yawned and shook his head, “Can’t say that I do.”

Paige picked her nails and glared at him as he plunged back into his book. She wanted to call him out. She wanted to throw it in his face and reveal what the professor had said, but something stopped her, something tugged at her ear and advised against it. She wanted to give her dad the benefit of the doubt but his leg wouldn’t stop tapping the ground.

“I’m going to their show tonight,” she said. “They’re playing at the Blue Star on Montrose. I’m meeting up with this guy I met at school today. He gave me a backstage pass.”

She had his full attention. Her father closed his book and listened as she relayed the events of her day, excluding her sick spell and the strange lights she kept seeing. She described the professor’s youthful appearance and her run-in with Abbey’s parents, particularly his irate father, but she refrained from telling him about the dream. She regretted telling Abbey about it, but something about his reaction didn’t seem natural, then again, nothing about her day seemed natural. Her father remained silent after she finished unloading on him. She waited for a reply, studying his face while his foot continued tapping the ground. The wind burned through her clothes as she tucked her face into her shirt and wrapped her arms around her chest.

“You shouldn’t go to that show tonight,” he finally said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about it, real bad feeling.”

“I’m going.”

“Paige, listen to me,” he said, “I don’t want you to go. Just stay home. We’ll build a fire, drink some coffee, roast marshmallows and watch our favorite episodes of the Twilight Zone.”

“I’m going,” she said again. “There’s no way I’m missing this, Dad. Besides, I’m sick of being at home. I have cabin fever. All we do is watch TV and roast marshmallows.”

Her father sighed and rubbed his eyes. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re absolutely right. I’m sick of being at home too. Hey, why don’t I come with you?”

She laughed and shook her head, “I don’t think so.”

“Oh come on,” he said, “It’ll be fun. You know, I enjoy a good rock show from time to time too, honey.”

“Dad, I’ll be fine. Besides, who would mom roast marshmallows with?”

Panic drenched her father’s face. She felt guilty for putting un-needed stress on him, but growing up with over-bearing parents meant becoming a willful child. The tall pines swayed in the wind and she wondered how something so tall and skinny could survive the wrath of a hurricane. Most of the trees bared bald spots where the storm stripped away their bark leaving them vulnerable and naked, but the spindly pines stood tall, somehow they survived.

“I want you to listen to me,” her father said. “I’ve always kept your best interest in mind, but after all these years, we’ve waited, your mother and I–” sighing, he sipped his coffee and stroked his graying hair, “your mother and I, we just love you so much.”

Paige looked down and rubbed her arms, “Yeah, I know,” she said, avoiding eye contact. Unprepared for confrontation and thrown off by his urgency, she wanted nothing more than to jump in her car and drive to the edge of the map. Looking over his shoulder, her father lowered his voice and leaned in closer.

 “Some things, we can’t speak aloud,” he said, “but your professor, he knows about you.” Grabbing her hands, he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Stay close to him tonight. He loves you like his own.” Relaxing back into the porch swing, he popped on his glasses and opened his book. “We won’t tell your mother about this until you’re gone,” he said. “She’s liable to lock you up and throw away the key.”

Paige turned away from her father and gazed at the starless sky. She yearned for the absent moon.