37
I t’s just Dad and me on the patio.
I fold myself into the slatted teak chair, only partially listening as Dad rehashes tomorrow’s travel details. Something about getting there early enough to drop the rental car off.
“I have to talk to you about something,” I blurt, unable to hold it in. Many things , if we’re being honest.
He resettles and turns toward me. “I was going to say the same.”
I grip the armrest, bracing myself. Mei must have told him. That’s why he’s so pale. I’m not scared that he’ll freak out or have some strong reaction. Dad is even, kind of like Teller. He rarely gets elevated about anything. But he makes this certain expression when he’s disappointed. And that’s what I’m terrified of. Disappointing him.
“Did Mei say something? About me deferring to stay with Caleb?” I ask, just as he says, “Wait, did Mei tell you about Scheana?”
It’s a face-off. “Scheana? Who is Scheana?” I ask over and over while he goes rigid, repeating, “You deferred?”
The onslaught comes next: “What are you thinking?” “What about our decision to stick it out for one more year?” “What are you planning to do instead?” “You can’t stay in a foreign country with someone you barely know!”
I don’t respond. All I want to know is “Who the heck is Scheana?”
This one got through to him.
“Is she your girlfriend or something?” I say flippantly, not really expecting that to be a possibility.
I note the way he’s fidgeting with his water bottle before he responds. “Yes.”
My stomach free-falls. Dad has a girlfriend? What in sweet hell?
His shoulders hitch. “I never expected it to happen—neither of us did.”
I turn away, though only partially. I need answers. “Who is she?”
“I met her a couple months ago. She’s new at work.” Maybe it’s because he also met Mom at work, but that stings.
“Why didn’t you tell me about her?” I ask, unable to hide my irritation.
“Because there was nothing to say at first. We started off just friends. She invited me to play pickleball and I didn’t realize it was a date.” Normally, I’d laugh at something like that, but right now all I feel is anger and resentment. “I didn’t want to say anything until I knew it was serious. And then when it got serious, you were on your trip and I wanted to tell you in person.”
I let out a snort. “Is that why you came all the way here? To tell me you have a girlfriend?”
His lips twist in offense. “No. I came to see you because I was concerned. And apparently, I had a right to be.”
“You don’t need to be concerned. I’m perfectly fine,” I say, unable to cap the bitterness.
“You went backpacking, met some guy, and dropped out without even discussing it with me. Does that sound like someone who’s fine?”
“Dad, I deferred. I didn’t drop out. And I wanted to do it before I left a month ago. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react like this. Like you always have when I do something that’s not in line with your specific plan for me.” He rolls his eyes and I toss my arms in the air. “I never wanted to go to college in the first place. I told you it wasn’t for me—that I’d rather do something hands-on. Something with animals. And you couldn’t accept that. You just wanted me to be exactly like you, to follow in your footsteps. Be super smart and academic, do everything cookie cutter and conventional like you and Mom did.”
“And what’s so wrong with that? You always loved true crime. And science, you were so good at it. You’re capable of so much more if you’d just apply yourself.”
Frustration builds in my throat. “See? This is exactly the problem. You don’t even listen. If you did, you’d know it has nothing to do with not applying myself and everything to do with the fact that I’ve never liked forensics!” I pause momentarily, only to catch my breath. “And you don’t have a leg to stand on, being mad at me for not telling you when you’ve been hiding a whole new relationship.”
“I understand why you’d feel hurt—”
“Do you really, though?” Based on how this whole conversation is going, I’d wager he’s still clueless.
“I’ve done extensive reading about how difficult it is for children of deceased parents when their living parent starts dating again.”
I shake my head, startled by how off the mark he is.
“I’ve tried for years to avoid this. To make sure you were happy and content. I never wanted to bring anyone else into our lives until you were older. But you have to understand that it’s healthy for me to finally move on. To have a companion—”
“Dad, you have no idea why I’m actually upset, do you?”
“Then tell me.”
“I don’t want to talk about this now. Please leave me alone.”
“I hoped you’d be happy for me.”
“It’s hard to be happy for you when you’re content to forget Mom.” The words leave a sting in my mouth as soon as they come out, like venom.
He winces.
“I’m sorry,” I say immediately. I’m officially an asshole. All these years, I’ve worried about what would happen if I left home. The idea of Dad being all by himself was crushing. And now, he’s found a companion, someone to keep him company, someone to eat dinner with when I’m not there. I should be thrilled, not acting like a complete brat. “I don’t know why I said all that. Of course I want you to be happy. I was just ... surprised.”
He breaks, too, his expression a mixture of sadness and shame. “I’m sorry too. I do avoid talking about Mom. But I hope you know it’s not because I want to forget about her. It’s the opposite. It’s because I miss her so much that it’s painful to talk about her.”
Tears cascade over my lash lines before I have the chance to stop them. “I’m sorry, Dad. I get it.”
He pulls me into his chest. “But you’re right. It’s selfish of me to avoid talking about her. I just assumed it would make you sad too. I didn’t want you to grow up being constantly reminded of her absence.”
I pull back, wiping my tear-logged bangs away from my forehead. “I mean, I was anyways. Every time I’d go to a friend’s house, or whenever girls talked about shopping with their moms on the weekend or their moms helped them pick out a dress for semiformal. She died when I was so young. I have such a hard time remembering. Talking about her is the only proof I have that she was real.”
He nods. “I’m sorry, Lo. I promise to work on that. But believe me when I tell you, not talking about her has nothing to do with trying to forget her.”
“I know that. I really do want you to be happy. You deserve to find happiness after Mom.” And I mean it. My reaction was less about him moving on and more about being upset by my own situation.
He smiles and I think he’s holding back tears. “Thank you. And I hope you know I never meant to hide it from you. We only met a few months before you left for Italy, and I just wanted to make sure it was right before I told you.”
“Is it right?”
He smiles. “Yeah. It feels right.”
“Good.” I smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Knowing that Dad has someone who makes him genuinely happy makes me feel good. I lean forward. “Just promise not to like, make out in front of me and stuff.”
Dad puts his hand over his heart. “Solemnly swear. Though you’d have to actually be at home to make that promise.” His eyes well. I know me not coming home is killing him.
I hang my head. “I know I’m a huge disappointment.”
He sets a firm hand on my knee and looks me square in the eye. “You’ve never disappointed me. Not a day in your life. I was always so proud of you, entering those science competitions, even if you didn’t win.”
I sigh. “That’s the thing. I only did them because I wanted you to be proud of me. I never liked them. And then when I mentioned possibly taking forensics, you were so happy and I just couldn’t tell you the truth. And I thought, I don’t hate it. Maybe I could stick it out.”
“I get it. I probably wouldn’t have been supportive if you had told me you were thinking of deferring. You know, your mom had a rough year in her first year. She almost dropped out.”
“Really?”
He nods. “She went home every weekend, homesick. But she stuck it out and I mistakenly thought that was what you had to do, without realizing feeling lost in school and being homesick were totally different things.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. I’ve really tried.”
He nods. “It’s okay. You tried, and that’s all I can ask for. I’d rather you be happy, doing something you love, than see you miserable. And if it’s going to take a while to figure out what’s going to make you happy, so be it. It’s just ... Ever since your mother—” He stops himself, swallowing hard.
“Ever since Mom what?”
“Nothing.”
He can see I’m upset, so he continues reluctantly, “I was just going to say, ever since your mom died, I’ve been terrified to lose you.”
It’s a big confession, probably the most vulnerable he’s been with me. I’ve always known this was part of why he was so protective. My aunts always told me so. But this is the first time he’s vocalized it instead of logic-ing all the reasons why things aren’t safe or smart.
I squeeze his hand. “You won’t lose me, Dad. I do plan on coming home. It’ll just be a few weeks. Maybe another month.”
“Okay. But you’re welcome to come back earlier. If you need to.”
“So you’re saying you won’t turn my room into a Marvel shrine?”
He laughs. “I may clear some shelf space.”
“So, tell me about Scheana.”
We sit for a solid two hours as he tells me all about his girlfriend. She’s a fellow scientist and a massive nerd for anything comic-book related. In her spare time, she writes romance novels and loves to knit. She’ll be good for Dad, I think.
And if my uptight-scientist dad is starting a whole new chapter, maybe I need to stop being so scared to start my own.