Quoted By:
>"Dad....."
Andreya lets out a deep breath and steps back from the casket.
>"I'm so sorry. I know I was a fuck up. I did my best. I wanted to make you proud. I hoped maybe I would. Things just..... had a way of not working, you know?"
Things still weren't working. She hadn't been able to get in touch with anyone from the WWA. Her new phone was on a new carrier, with a new number, and none of her contact information was retrievable. Calling the WWA offices directly was likewise a bust. Evidently they'd had a few crank callers or something like that; the office wanted her to report in in-person before they'd take any action or consider passing along Robyn's contact information.
Surrounded by dozens of mourners who had come out to pay their respects to her father, Andreya was alone in Toronto. If anyone said anything to her, it was a muttered acknowledgment and expression of sorrow for her loss from someone she didn't know, or had met once or twice as a child. Shameem was short-spoken and preoccupied with her own grief, and her two half-brothers were kept sequestered away from her for the most part, even here, during the funeral.
About twenty-three years ago, her mother had died hours after giving birth to her. Her father was now dead too.
>"Damn. I guess that makes me an orphan now, huh?"
Andreya tries the word out, speaking it aloud. It feels strange to make her voice say it. She turns away from the casket to return to her seat, but Shameem is facing her.
