Grace
Now
“Are we going for take me home to meet your mother or I’ll bring you to your knees?” It’s incredible that I’m able to keep a straight face while saying this, but this is a pretty stock-standard conversation in our friendship.
There’s a brief, contemplative silence on Carson’s end. “As much as I’m all for bringing men to their knees, I’m not sure a blind first date is the best place for that.”
“Or, hear me out,” I respond, channeling the level of enthusiasm only shown by used car salesmen trying to sell you a death trap, “it could be the perfect test.”
My best friend’s deep laugh rumbles through the speaker, spilling out to fill the otherwise silent car as I make the forty-five minute drive home from the office.
With the fall temperature drop looming, I make the most of the remaining heat by driving with the windows down.
The sun setting over the Chicago’s skyline almost takes my breath away, a kaleidoscope of pink and orange hues with touches of purple seeping through between the clouds.
“Let’s not go testing the man too early, G. You never know,” she adds, the sound of her rummaging through clothing causing an awful ruckus, “he could be my future husband.”
I let out a scoff and throw my head back, the tight bun coiled at the nape of my neck hitting the headrest. Carson is the furthest thing from a romantic, never once having pictured her future wedding, let alone her future husband.
Honestly, I’m still a little shocked she agreed to this blind date in the first place, even if it was her favorite cousin who set it up.
“Say it with a little less sarcasm and maybe I’ll believe you next time.” There’s a smirk pulling at my lips as I speak, one that Carson can no doubt hear over the line.
“I’m serious, G. I think I’m turning over a new leaf. I—”
My best friend’s voice cuts off as the call-waiting beep sounds, my father’s name flashing across the screen.
“Sorry, Cars, Dad’s calling. Can I call you back?”
“As long as you let Randy know he’s interrupted a very important conversation,” she responds with a faux-stern tone. “Tell him I said hi!” And with that, she hangs up and Dad’s call connects.
“Don’t freak out, kiddo,” Dad says, which is unhelpful to say the least.
“Dad, you do realize that you saying ‘don’t freak out’ only causes me to actually freak out, right? I’m just driving home; do I need to pull over?”
His chuckle only slightly eases my stress. “You’re such a stress head. You must get that from your mother; couldn’t be my carefree genes.”
“Dad, we both know you love to talk, but you don’t usually start with ‘don’t freak out’, so what’s going on?” Despite his nonchalant attitude—or perhaps because of—I take the next exit off the highway and pull into a gas station parking lot.
He’s silent. I can’t help slipping my pointer finger between my teeth, anxiously biting down on my nail. A loud sigh fills the car before he continues. “Again, don’t freak out, but I’m in the ER. I didn’t want to stress you out since you ain’t here, but the nurses wouldn’t let up ‘til I called.”
My teeth release their hold on my fingernail immediately, my hand instead jumping to cover my gaping, gloss-covered mouth. “The ER?! What the hell, Dad?” My voice comes out three octaves higher than usual, which seems to amuse him. “What happened? Do you need me?”
“No, no, peanut. I’m fine. Just a small broken leg, nothin’ to worry about.”
Just a broken leg? This man will put me in an early grave.
The makings of a wicked headache begin across my forehead.
“A broken leg is a broken leg; you can’t belittle it by calling it small, Dad,” I respond, rubbing my forehead in an attempt to stave off the impending throbbing.
“I have an event tomorrow that I have to be on site for, but I can be there Saturday.”
“You really don’t have to, I’ll be fine. Doc said I just need a cast for a couple weeks.”
“And how many is a couple in this instance?”
I can practically hear my dad roll his eyes. “Eight,” he mumbles.
God knows I love him, but this man is exhausting sometimes.
“How are you going to run the store for the next eight weeks with a cast on? Lorelei only works part-time, and unless you’ve hired someone since you texted me about being run off your ass last Tuesday, the only other staff member is you.”
There’s a huff on the other end of the line. I can’t imagine this is easy for him—a man who hates asking for help, having to admit defeat at the hands of a cast and crutches, no less. But if there’s one person he particularly hates asking help from, it’s his only child.
“I’m sure I can manage in a cast, I’m a resourceful guy.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “Dad, c’mon.
Even if you could cope with running the store, how would you get around?
Who’s going to drive you to and from work, to get groceries?
What if you need to get into Nashville for follow-up appointments at the hospital or something? Please, let me help you.”
“Alright, alright, maybe I’m not that resourceful, but I’d hate to put you out. I know you’re busy, and you don’t exactly love the idea of being back here.”
He’s right, of course. There’s a reason I left Beaumont Ridge all those years ago. By pure reflex, I glance at the rearview mirror, half expecting to see the small East Tennessee town creeping up on me. But for my dad, the one person who’s stuck by me through it all, I’ll do it.
“I love you for looking out for me, but let me look out for you for once. I’ll see you Saturday.”
“Love you, too, kiddo,” is all he says in response before the call disconnects.
It’s not often my dad admits defeat, but man am I glad he did this ti—fuck.
The realization of what I’ve just forced hits me like a bull straight out the gates.
In two days, I’ll be back in Beaumont Ridge for the first time in twelve years.
When I left, it was with the intention of never stepping foot back there again.
But this, this is unchartered territory—purposely putting myself back in that small town for an extended period of time.
If it were anyone but Dad, I never would’ve offered, but I owe him the world.
For him, I can do this. It can’t be that bad, right?
As if conjured by that thought, a pair of caramel eyes materialize out of thin air. I’m both startled and not at all surprised. I see them almost every time I close my eyes but somehow seeing them in my thoughts in broad daylight throws me. Let’s shut that down immediately.