Henry
My dad’s in the apartment when I get there, lounging on the couch in front of a baseball game that’s broadcasting from the West Coast, brew in hand.
“What’s up, buddy?” He lifts his bottle like he’s toasting me.
“Not a lot, buddy. How was your night?”
“Damn good, my boy. Damn good.”
I quell a shudder, ready for him to launch into a gag-inducing description of how sexy he thinks Tati is. Instead, he asks, “Where’d you run off to?”
“Putt-putt. Piper won.”
He laughs, then takes a pull of his beer. He’s swapped his street clothes for sweats and an old T-shirt. I like this version of him: laid back, trying, but not too hard. “What’s she like?” he asks. “Other than wild, like Tati says.”
I fall onto the couch. “She’s cool.”
“Smart as you?”
“Yep. Tough too.”
“’Cause of what happened to her mom and dad?”
Tati’s talked with him about her parents—interesting.
“I guess that probably has a lot to do with it,” I say.
“You round the bases yet?”
Ahh, there’s Davis.
“Jesus, Dad. Really?”
He downs what’s left of his beer, then sets the empty on the coffee table. “Just curious. Should’ve known you’re not one to kiss and tell.”
“No, I’m not.” Even if I was, I wouldn’t tell him.
“Don’t get pissy,” he says, reaching across the couch to jostle my shoulder. “I was just making conversation. Keep your secrets if you want. Just know that I wanna talk if you do.”
I wish I could talk to him about digging Sugar Bay but missing Spokane. About Piper and my conflicted feelings. Not that I’m conflicted about her. I like her a lot—that’s easy—but I’m conflicted about pursuing something with her.
Opening up’s just not in my DNA.
“I’m taking Tati to dinner tomorrow night,” Dad tells me.
“I thought you and I were going bowling.”
He sits up straighter. “Shit, Henry. I forgot. I’ll reschedule. Tati’ll understand.”
“No, no.” I temper a smile. “Go with her. You and I can bowl anytime.”
“Really? Thanks, buddy.” He relaxes into the couch again. “You should do something with Piper. She’s obviously taken a liking to you.”
“Oh yeah? You gathered that in the seven minutes you’ve spent with us?”
He shrugs, shooting me a lazy smile. “You’re my kid. What’s not to like?”