"I still don't understand why you're doing this. Wanting a year off to find yerself is fine, but this is just— I don't get it."

I try not to meet my dad's gaze as we have the dinnertime conversation I've been avoiding for a month. A part of me thinks I shouldn't have told him about this in the first place, I should've just left. But then, I'd have to deal with feeling guilty as opposed to dealing with an awkward conversation. Honestly, it was a hard choice to make.

"Is it a generational thing?"

I chuckle at what I hope is a joke. My father sighs and I see the anxiety in his beady dark eyes— he's not joking, but I desperately want to play this whole thing off as one.

"Yes, Dad. You're too old to know why I'd want to play video games for an entire year of my life."

"Well, at least the Playstation doesn't inject you with drugs."

I roll my eyes at his overly—concerned parent schtick.

"The kind folks at Ginty are gonna fill me with PCP and crack cocaine and all of those other mystery chemicals from archaic anti—drug campaigns. Dad, I'm gonna abandon my life to become a meth head and have like twenty overdoses at once—"

Dad slams his hands on the wooden surface of the table. My soup jumps.

"That's not funny. I'm worried, I thought I raised a daughter that was empathetic—— I don't know what's going to happen to you! You're just gonna leave your body and— your consciousness, your soul, is gonna go god knows where! Can't you see why I'd be scar— sc— scar—"

Tears drip from his salt and pepper beard. The pang of guiltiness I've been trying to avoid grows immensely and I rush to my father with a hug.

"Dad, Dad, I'm sorry. Listen— you can visit me whenever you want. If there's an emergency, you can jack me out of the system, it's gonna be okay."

He stands up and tries to stifle his blubbering. I'm wrapped up in a big bear hug, like the kind he'd give me and my brother when we were kids. It's bittersweet nostalgia, even more bitter when I feel my dad's teardrops on my face.

"You gotta tell me why— I have to know before I can feel okay about this."

I take a deep breath and shake. There are so many damn reasons and half the time I have a hard time articulating even one of them. But, deep down, I know the one reason that made me want to leave.

"I need to find something I lost."

My dad's crying stops as he releases his grasp to look me in the eye.

"I don't understand, what did you lose? Is this about Yur—"

"It's hard to explain, but— it's all that I have, dad. I want to do so much more than that in the 'Verse next year, but it all leads up to finding that hard—to—define thing that I'm looking for. It feels like… something I've forgotten that I need to remember."

Dad takes a deep breath and sits down.

"Okay, I think I understand a little, thank you. I—I—"

Dad chokes on his voice before letting his pained words out.

"I gotta let you do this for yourself."

"Thanks, Dad."

After a minute of silence, my Dad and I pick up our plates and the room is filled with the sounds of china. He limps over to my side of our rustic wooden table and grabs my bowl. As he washes the dishes I open the fridge to grab a drink.

"Oh, Robbie?"

I look over to him, bottle in hand.

"Happy twenty—first."

I smirk at him as my water is exchanged for one of his beers.

"Later, nerd."

As I close my bedroom door, his familiar hoarse laugh fills our house and I smile. My augmented reality RoomUI greets me with a calendar as today's date is crossed off— just four days left.

I try my damnedest to believe I'm ready for this, but I know I'm not.