Watching Kiersten eat has got to be the cutest thing ever. I've never seen someone so happy over something as simple as a peaches n' cream crumble.

"What?" Kiersten giggles as she licks her spoon, making sure to get every last drop.

"You," I smile.

"Me?"

This time I chuckle. As if she doesn't know.

"Yeah, you."

"What about me?" She says, twirling her spoon around, playing dumb.

She's always gotta make me say it.

"You're so cute," I say.

"I'm what now?"

She leans in towards her camera and puts her hand to her ear, really hamming it up.

"Don't push it," I warn, playfully.

"Oh yeah? You're six hours away, Purdy. What're you gonna do?"

I open my mouth to make a comeback, but right as do, the door opens and closes. My mom's home with dinner. Then on top of that, another call comes through. It's my dad.

The timing is perfect. Not only because I had absolutely zero clever responses prepared, but because getting my dad on FaceTime while my mom's home is as close as I'm gonna get to having them in the same room. Maybe if I play it right, I can get them to talk to each other.

"Hey, are you alone?" I ask Kiersten.

I really need to take this chance with my parents, but I don't wanna hang up on her and leave her by herself.

"No, Teddy's here...somewhere."

"Oh, okay, good," I say quickly. "I gotta go. You good hanging with him for a bit?"

She seems confused, which can't say I blame her, but really, this is an opportunity I can't waste.

"Um, I mean, yeah...is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," I say. I can hear my mom heading up the stairs. I gotta answer my dad, like now. "I'll call you back?"

"Okay..."

"You're good with Teddy?" I ask again to be sure.

"Yeah, I'm good."

This time she seems more sure, so I tell her goodbye and that I love her and quickly switch over to my dad.

"Hey, kiddo," he says excitedly as soon as I answer.

His video pops up at the exact moment that my mom walks up the last step, putting her squarely in the background. Perfect.

"Hey, Dad," I say, really emphasizing the word Dad so my mom knows exactly who I'm talking to.

Her head jerks up and her eyes widen when she realizes she's in the background.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says somewhat shyly and steps to the side.

"It's cool," I say and "accidentally" shift my phone so she's in the background again. "It's just dad."

She gives him a little half-hearted smile and wave then discretely dips into the kitchen. Shoot.

It's okay, though, this ain't over yet.

"Is that Matty?" I hear Drew exclaim from the other room.

Then I hear him, Carrie, and Marcie come barreling in like a herd of wild animals. My dad is quick to ward them off though.

"You can talk to him in a little bit, okay?...No, no I know....I want to talk to him, too...ten minutes, okay?...you'll get to talk to him, I promise...okay? Okay?"

Drew and Carrie whine and weakly argue off camera, but my dad is stern with them and tells them to go play somewhere else. Begrudgingly, they give in and do as they're told. My heart breaks a little hearing their feet pitter-patter away. I miss them like crazy and of course, I'd love to talk to them, but I know what he's doing. He's trying to shield them from seeing our mom.

I get it and all, but man, I can't help but think about how much better and easier it would be if we were all together in one house like a real family. Instead of...whatever this is.

"So," my dad says, changing gears. "What are you guys doing for dinner?"

I knew. I totally knew, but like I said, this ain't over yet.

"Uh, I can't remember...Mom?"

"Yeah, honey?" She says from the kitchen.

"What are we having for dinner?"

"Red Fish Grill."

I heard it loud and clear. We both did, but again, this ain't over yet.

"What?" I say, using Kiersten's technique to draw her into the living room.

Damn, that girl's smart.

I hear the food make a hefty thump on the counter. I think she realizes I'm not letting her get away with avoiding my dad.

After a few seconds, she saunters into the living room. She kind of gives me the eye, like "I know what you're doing, kid," but sits down with me, putting herself right in front of the camera and talks directly to my dad.

"So, there's this place on Bourbon Street, the Red Fish Grill, it's got the best oysters on the half shell around. I could eat six dozen of 'em without even blinking. Me and my girlfriends from school would go there every Sunday after a really bad test and drown our sorrows in Blood Orange Bellinis."

My mom laughs like eating oysters and drinking bellinis is some sort of universal experience that he can totally relate to. Which obviously he can't, because he's spent every Sunday for the last four years wrangling 3 little kids and taking me to football practice.

"Well, I wouldn't know nothing about that," my dad says softly.

He laughs, but I know it hurts. My mom quickly realizes her mistake and keeps her mouth shut, afraid of making it worse. Feeling my plans slipping away, I do what I can to keep the train on the tracks.

"We'll have to try it next time you come out."

My dad laughs again, a laugh mixed with pain and absurdity. With the 3 little guys, it'll be a long time, if ever, that he'll be coming over this way. And when he does, he sure as hell won't be drinking bellinis and eating oysters.

"Maybe."

Maybe meaning no.

"You'll come out at least once though, right?" I ask.

I can hear the desperation in my voice, and I know they can too. It's why they both look away from each other.

"I'm not sure your mother has the space."

Dammit. And now they're back to talking through me. I tell ya, this "your mother," "your father" stuff sucks.

"We can make space, can't we Mom?"

I turn to my mom, hoping, naively I know, that she'll jump right in and say "of course!" But she doesn't answer. Instead she smiles softly and runs her hands through my hair.

"I'm going to get dinner ready."

My heart sinks. It's takeout. There's nothing to get ready.

I mumble an "okay" as she gets up and walks away. My dad looks to the floor, purposefully keeping his eyes out of the spotlight of the camera.

"I, uh," my dad says and clears his throat, still keeping his eyes down. "I should get dinner ready, too."

He gets up slowly, but still somewhat abruptly and hands his phone off to my little brother and sisters. The three of them scramble to get in front of the camera, giggling and fighting over who gets to hold the phone, completely unaware of...all this.

I wish I could be too. Unaware, I mean. But even though I can't see it, in my mind I can picture it so clearly. Right about now, my dad's sitting at the kitchen table with his head in hands, alone, trying to hold it all together. Maybe a tear or two falls, but nothing more. A brief hole in his tires before he patches himself back up and keeps driving.

Like clockwork, no more than a minute later, I hear the clanging of pots and pans.

That's the way it goes in the Purdy household.

Your heart breaks, and then you move on.