More than one?

I grab my cellphone and dial my dad's number.

“Hello?” he formally answers but he knows who it is.

“Hi Dad, can we talk?” My leg shakes in anticipation.

“Selena it’s going to cost a lot to talk on the phone,” he speaks, but I won’t let him back out.

“Father I'm here, and we need to talk.”

He snorts. “Where are you?”

I explain exactly where I am and he asks me to wait at one of the cafes facing the sea and order only an orange juice. My dad arrives about ten minutes later in a La Coste jacket, jeans, and running shoes.

“Hi Dad.” He just keeps looking at me arrogantly without even greeting me. “Sorry to make a fuss.”

“How is Hunter?” He positions himself in the chair across from me.

“Very well,” I answer. “Next week he disembarks in Madrid to stay focused for the World Cup.”

“I'm happy for you.”

His vague words earn a rise in me.

“Is that all you're gonna tell me?” I bite.

“And what do you want me to say?”

“I don't know, you're the father, how about asking me how I am instead of asking