27. Chapter 27
Chapter 27
“ Y ou were right,” I say, standing in front of Dawson. It’s Monday evening and I was just about to leave work when he came into my office to say hi. It was good timing because I needed to talk to him and I had been avoiding it all day. Like the chicken that I am.
I didn’t jump right into it. First, I asked him how his day was, and we went back and forth with the small talk. And then I took a breath and told him he was right.
“Right?” He crinkles his brow.
“I might have feelings for Chase,” I say. Not might—I definitely do. But Dawson doesn’t need to know that.
“Ah,” he says, giving me a rueful smile.
“I’m so sorry, Dawson, I—”
He holds out a hand. “It’s on me,” he says. “Maybe if I’d had the chance to dance more with you at the party.”
I think back to the party—it feels so long ago, like a different part of my life. What would have happened if Natasha had never shown up? Would it have been me walking hand in hand with Dawson toward the parking lot at the end? Strange how life works.
“Maybe,” I say.
“So, have you told him?”
“Chase?”
“Yeah. ”
“I … haven’t yet,” I say.
“Well, you should,” he says. “Guys are dumb. We need you to spell it out for us.” He gives me a knowing smile.
I’m having such déjà vu right now. Wasn’t it not that long ago that Chase was giving me the same advice about Dawson? This is quite the odd turn of events.
I twist my lips to the side. “So … how do you go about doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Telling someone you like them.”
“Right,” he says, the apples of his cheeks turning just the slightest bit pink.
I shake my head in little quick motions. “I’m sorry, that’s … I shouldn’t be asking you that.”
“No,” Dawson says. “I don’t mind. I’d say you can either just straight up tell him, or … do what I did and steal a kiss.”
It’s my turn to blush now. “Well, he sort of did that.”
“Then he probably likes you.”
Yeah, this feels so weird. I’m currently getting man advice from the man that I was previously getting man advice for. But now for the man that was originally giving me the advice.
I’m just going to stop this thought train. I’ll get a headache for sure.
“Well, thanks, Dawson. That’s helpful.”
He turns to go but then turns back. “I don’t like to play second fiddle, but … if things don’t work out with the other guy, maybe I could get another shot?”
I smile at him. “Absolutely.”
L ater that night after Halmoni has filled me with bulgolgi and rice and lectured Hannah for not dating, I walk over to my dad’s house to see how he is. I haven’t talked to him much since the whole dinner fiasco. I’ve seen him at work a couple of times, and we’ve talked on the phone once or twice. But not about anything important.
I want to see how he is … to see if he’s still looking at me like I’m fragile or need mental help.
I knock on the door this time, so as not to interrupt anything. I don’t need to learn that lesson twice.
My dad answers the door; he’s wearing khaki pants and a Cooper’s polo, even though he never came into the shop today.
“Hey, Magpie,” he says, opening the door for me.
“Hi, Dad,” I say. I stand on my tiptoes and give him a kiss on the cheek after walking inside. “Is June here?” I look around the front room to see if there are any hints of her. Shoes? Jacket? I don’t see anything.
“Nah,” he says. “She just left.”
I smile. It feels a little fake, but I keep going with it. The truth is, I don’t mind June. She’s actually really sweet, and I think she and my dad dating is … okay. I mean, it still sometimes feels like a punch in my gut, if I’m being honest. But maybe … less of a punch. More of a pinch.
At any rate, I’m glad she’s not here today. So that I can speak with my dad freely and not feel like I have an audience.
“How are you?” I ask as I follow my dad into the living room, a news station on the TV. My mom used to hate it when he’d watch the news. She said it was like poison, listening to all that doom and gloom. He’s probably watching it to spite her. He probably leaves his socks all around too. Another pet peeve of hers .
“Oh, you know, just doing my thing,” my dad says as we sit on the couch.
“Didn’t see you at the shop today.”
“I was busy around here. I figured you all got it covered.”
“We have a good teacher.” I reach over and pat his leg.
“What have you been up to, Mags?” he asks. “I haven’t talked to you in a while.”
I take a breath. Time to be straight, no matter what conversation it brings up. “I’ve been hanging out with Chase, actually.”
“Ah,” my dad says, rolling his lips together and nodding his head. “What have you been doing?”
“Oh, you know. Just the odd zip-lining, ATVing, some cliff diving. Stuff like that.”
He turns to me, his lips now turned upward. “Oh, really?”
“Yep,” I say. “I think I’ve found Mom’s long-lost twin.”
My dad chuckles. “Well, that sounds like fun. Pretty funny, how you two met.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I was worried about you, you know.” He pauses, looking like he’s trying to get his words in order. “But then June made me realize what you did was actually pretty healthy.”
I pull my face back, lowering my chin. “Healthy?”
“You found a way to get your feelings out. You didn’t keep them all locked up inside of you. I’ve had June to talk to, and Chelsea has Mark … and I’m not sure who Devon’s talking to, but he seems to be handling it okay. And you … you had a different way you needed to express yourself.”
“It’s okay; you can think it’s weird.”
“No, no, I really don’t. I’m just sorry I was a cheap old man and turned off your mom’s phone. ”
I giggle. “You really are cheap.”
“Your mom loved that about me,” he says, and gives me a wink.
“Oh, sure. That’s why she sometimes had me hide her shopping under my bed.”
“Yeah, your mother tried to hide that stuff. But I always knew. I never cared. I would have bought her the world, if she’d asked.”
I feel that lump in my throat. It’s weird that it’s not a regular occurrence anymore. “I miss her.”
“Me too. Every day. Sometimes every minute of every hour.” He puts an arm around the back of the couch and gives my shoulder a little squeeze.
“Well, I’m glad you turned off her phone.”
“Are you?”
“Yeah, I would have never met Chase if you hadn’t.”
His eyebrows go upward. “Oh … really?”
There’s a lot of insinuation in that “really.”
“He’s been really great. It almost feels … meant to be. That sounds dumb to say out loud.”
“It’s not dumb,” he says. “Didn’t he lose his mom too?”
I look down at my hands. My fingers are intertwined, my thumbs twiddling. “He did; it was a car accident.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Yes. Sort of makes you appreciate that at least we got to say goodbye.”
“I do appreciate that. And that we also got to tell her how much we loved her.”
The lump is back. Hello, old friend . “That too.”
“How old was she?”
“Fifty-nine. ”
“Too young to go.”
“Yes, it is.” I look down at my lap again. “Does June talk about her husband?”
“Oh, sure … sure. We talk a lot about our spouses. She’s been doing this much longer, though. But she has a lot of stories to tell about Roger. He was a great man.”
I have vague memories of Roger. I’d see him jogging around our neighborhood—that’s how I remember him the most. He was so healthy, a heart attack at the age of fifty was such a shock to the neighborhood.
“So, how does dating in your fifties work?”
“We do a lot of texting,” he says.
“Sounds familiar.”
“In fact, she sent me one today.” He reaches over to the arm of the chair and grabs his phone, which is perched there.
He pulls up the app and clicks on her name. I’m reminded of Devon, Chelsea, and me snooping on his phone, finding their song. I wonder if it still is.
“She said: ‘I’ve got a lot to think about. I hope you do too.’” He looks to me after reading me the text. “What do you think she meant by that?”
I tilt my head to the side, eyeing him. Is my father asking me to break down a text with him?
“I don’t really understand the context,” I say.
“Neither do I,” he says with a chuckle.
So the reality is, dating is the same no matter what age you are. That’s … disheartening. I tell my dad this.
“Well, it’s not as hard as it was when I was your age. There’s not a lot of figuring out what the future holds, like how we’d raise a family, or stay on a budget, and whatnot. It’s mostly about companionship. Having someone around. ”
“But doesn’t it feel strange? To be talking and sharing feelings with someone that’s not Mom?”
“Not really,” he says. “No one will ever top your mom; I married up with her.” He smiles in that way that makes his eyes do that endearing crinkling thing. “I’d like to think that if it was me that went first, that your mom would have found some way to be happy, however that was.”
I nod my head. She would have. But it may not have been in the same way. Or maybe it would have been. I’ll never know the answer to that. But I do know she would have been happy. She used to tell me that it was my job to make myself happy. No one else can do that. I think I understand that more, now that I’m older.
“Do you think you’ll marry her?”
“June?” he asks, his eyes going out of focus as he contemplates what I’ve just asked.
“Yeah,” I say. I picture us coming over here for dinner, June running things. It feels … strange. Even worse, would my dad sell this house and move in with her? What would I do if I lost the home I’ve known for most of my life? The place where most of my memories were made? I’m not sure I want to think about this right now.
“I don’t know. I’ve just started dating. Maybe I want to play the field a little more,” he says, giving me a mischievous grin.
“Dad,” I say, whacking him on the arm. Now I’m having defensive feelings on June’s behalf. He can’t do that to her.
He chuckles. “Life is short, this I do know. You have to find happiness where you can. That’s all we really have in the end.”