by McKayla Box
“If I can, I will,” I tell her.
I mean it. I'm not lying.
I'm just not sure what if I can actually means.
Because if my dad says it's cool?
I'm still not sure that I can.
FIVE
“So there's this thing,” I say.
My dad and I are sitting at the kitchen table. He's grilled cheeseburgers outside on the barbecue and I cut up potatoes to make homemade french fries. I've spent the afternoon thinking about the weekend and Bridget's offer and decide not to put off asking him. I'm secretly hoping he'll say no so that I won't have to be the one that makes the decision.
Because I'm a huge chicken.
“I have a thing, too,” he says, sliding one of the patties onto a bun.
“You have a thing?”
“A thing I want to talk about,” he says, pushing the plate of meat toward me.
I take a burger. “Okay. You go first.”
Huge chicken.
“I've been asked out on a date,” he says. “And I'm going to go.”
“Holy shit,” I blurt out.
He cuts his eyes in my direction.
“Sorry,” I say.
He gives me a stern look, then chuckles. “That's sort of what I said to myself.”
“I'm just...surprised.”
“Surprised that someone wants to date me or that I'm going to go?”
“Both,” I say. “Wait. That sounds wrong.”
He laughs again. “It's okay. I know what you're trying to say.” He spears a pickle from the jar with his fork and puts it on top of the burger. “I was surprised at both. That someone might ask me and that I said yes.”
“You're a catch, Dad,” I tell him. “You shouldn't be surprised.”
“Please,” he says, making a face. “I'm a middle-aged, divorced, workaholic, single parent. I don't think most people are checking those boxes on their Match.com forms.”
“Is that where you met her?” I ask, covering my burger in ketchup. “Online?”
He shakes his head and picks up his burger. He eyes it, then takes a bite. He takes a drink of his beer to wash it down. “No. At work.”
“You're dating a co-worker?” I say. “That seems like a bad idea.”
“Not a co-worker,” he says. “Wait.” He looks at me. “Are you okay with me going on a date?”
“You already said yes,” I tell him, picking up my own burger.
“I can still say no,” he says. “If it makes you uncomfortable.”
I take a big bite of the burger and wash it down with a long drink of water. “It's not my date.”
“Pres. You know what I'm asking here.”
I do know what he's asking. I have mixed feelings about it. It's weird to think about him on a date. But I also worry about him being alone when I leave for school. More than anything, I want him to be happy.
“Not gonna lie,” I finally say. “It's kinda weird. Just thinking about you on a date is...bizarre. But I'll get over it. You should go if you want to.”
“I don't have to,” he tells me. “I can cancel.”
I shake my head. “That isn't cool. If you said yes and you want to go, you should.”
He nods and bites one of the french fries. “These are good.”
“Thanks.”
“I do want to go,” he says. “I haven't really thought much about dating because I've been focused on work and you. Before that it was the move. And before that, it was licking my wounds from the divorce with your mom. So there hasn't been much space in my head for that kind of thing. When we got divorced, I just wanted to make sure you and I were okay. I think you and I are okay now.” He shrugs. “I don't want to be the old, weird guy who lives by himself.”
“You can come live with me,” I tell him.
“In your dorm?” he asks. “Now that would definitely be weird.”
I laugh. “I meant after that.”
He laughs, too. “I know. But it would be weird then. I'm not going to encroach on your life like that.” He eyes me. “Maybe I'll buy a place next door to you.”
“A good compromise,” I say.
We eat for a minute. I'm hungry and the food tastes good.
“Okay,” he says. “What is your thing?”
“I'm not even sure I want to go,” I tell him. “I just found out about it today. There's this senior weekend thing up in Santa Barbara. Everyone goes camping and hangs out at the beach. Apparently, it's a tradition. Bridget just told me about it after school.”
He takes a long drink from his beer. “I assume this is an unofficial, unchaperoned trip?”
“Think that's a yes to both.”
He sets the beer down and makes a face. “Let me ask this first then. Do you want to go?”
I dip a french fry in the pool of ketchup next to my burger. “I'm not sure.”
“Because Trevor is going?”
“I don't know if he is,” I tell him. “But I guess it's that and just a whole bunch of other stuff. Not sure it's for me.”
“You never really told me what went on with him,” he says.
I don't say anything.
“I don't suppose you want to now,” he says.
I shrug. “We broke up. Just a bunch of stuff.”
He nods.
I know he wants more, but I don't want to give it to him. I don't want to lay it all bare in front of him for a lot of reasons.
“Okay,” he says. “I won't push.”
I take a deep breath, relieved.
“Well, I can't say I'm crazy about the idea,” he says. “Would you be driving yourself up?”
“Probably ride with Maddie,” I tell him. “She's taking Gina and Bridget and she has room. I don't really wanna drive that far.”
He nods, thinking. “Do I even need to ask if there's going to be alcohol there?”
“Probably not,” I say. “Ask, that is.”
“Will you be drinking?” he asks.
“No,” I tell him.
He gives me a long look.
I don't say anything.
“I'm not naive enough to think that there isn't alcohol when you go out,” he says. “I'm not so old that I don't remember high school. But I don't want you to lie to me, either.”
“I'm not planning to drink,” I tell him and that is the truth.
He gives me another long look. “Okay. You can't drive if you're drinking and you can't get in anyone's car that's been drinking.”
“I know, Dad.”
“I'm just getting it on the record,” he says. “So we're clear. I don't care what the situation is. If you don't have any options, you call me. I'll come. Even if it's up to Santa Barbara.”
“Okay.”
“We probably should've had this conversation a long time ago,” he says, leaning back in his chair.
“It's okay, Dad,” I tell him. “I will always call if I need to. And I'm seriously not planning on drinking or doing anything else in Santa Barbara like that. If I go.”
He picks up his beer. “So why aren't you sure if you want to go?”
I shrug. “I don't know. Sort of last minute. Not sure it's my thing.”
“You've been home a lot lately.”
“Is that bad?”
He shakes his head. “No. I've just noticed it.”
I shift in my seat. “I just haven't felt like going out, that's all. And I'm just not sure I'm up for a weekend of everyone acting like idiots.”
He takes a drink from the beer and sets the bottle on the table. “I'll never complain about having you at home. But I also just want to make sure you're okay.”
“I am,” I tell him. “I swear.”
He smiles. “Okay. I believe you.”
“So can I go?” I ask. “If I decide I want to? I also thought maybe I could take a look at the campus up there. Just see what it's like.”
He thinks for a moment, then nods. “Not a bad idea. Okay, I'm fine with you going. I'll need you to check in with me wh
en you get there and to let me know what's going on. But I trust you. You can go. If you want to.” He points at me. “And I'm serious. If something goes wrong and you need something or whatever? You call me. No questions asked, I'll get in the car and head up.”
“I know you will,” I say. “Thanks.”
He nods. “But I'll need you to pick out an outfit for me before you go.”
“Your date is this weekend?”
He nods again. “Yeah, and I don't trust myself to find something in my closet. So that's my one condition to your going.”
I laugh. “Okay. And who exactly are you going out with?”
He picks up our empty plates and carries them over to the sink. “I actually didn't even know she was single. She does some investment stuff with Frank and so she was in the office quite a bit and I was helping navigate the paperwork. We got to talking and realized we had some things in common. Both divorced, both single parents. Same sense of humor.”
“That doesn't sound bad,” I say.
“It's not,” he says. “I like her.” He picks up the empty beer bottle and carries it to the counter. “Her daughter goes to Sunset and I think she's in your class.”
“Oh yeah? What's her name?”
“Jennifer,” he says.
I think for a moment. “I don't think I know a Jennifer.”
He shakes his head. “No, I meant, my date's name is Jennifer. I think her daughter's name is Shannon? Their last name is Becker.”
My stomach drops. “Shanna Becker?”
He snaps his fingers. “Yep, that's it. Shanna. Do you know her?”
I look at the table and do my best not to vomit all over it. “Yeah. I know her.”
SIX
I lay on my bed for an hour, staring at the ceiling, thinking about my dad and Shanna's mom.
I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry. I don't want to judge her mom based on what her daughter's like, but it's hard not to with everything she's done to me. I try to tell myself that it's just one date and maybe it won't amount to anything. If I tell my dad I have a problem with it, he's going to want to know why and that's going to open up about sixteen different cans of worms.
No thanks.
I pick up my phone and stare at it for a long time before I scroll through my contacts and find Trevor's number.
Are you around?
It takes a couple of minutes, but the dots finally show up and I can tell he's responding.
I'm here.
Can I tell you something?
Did I say you couldn't?
I'm serious. I'm having a meltdown and I need to tell someone. I need a friend.
Another minute goes by before he responds.
Okay. I'm listening.
My heart beats fast.
My dad is going on a date.
And?
And it's with Shanna's mom.
Lol no shit?
No shit.
Her mom's kinda hot.
Shut up.
She is.
Her daughter's kind of a bitch.
Well yeah.
It just feels weird and I'm all screwed up over it.
Why?
I don't know. What if they end up getting married and I have to be sisters with Shanna?
What the fuck are you even talking about?
I don't know. It just makes me kind of sick.
Why?
Because I don't wanna spend any time with her!
Are you going on the date?
Duh. Fuck no.
Then why is it your problem?
I don't say anything because it's a fair question. I see the dots again and he's typing.
Does your dad know? About Shanna?
No. Haven't told him anything.
Maybe tell him? If that's what's bothering you?
Then I have to tell him a bunch of shit that I don't want to.
Right.
My dad hasn't gone on a date since the divorce.
Probably ready then.
Does your dad date?
He doesn't date. He hooks up. As a dude in his forties. With women half his age.
Gross.
Yeah.
I think for a moment. I wish we were having the conversation in person, that I was sitting next to him, and that everything was okay. I look at the screen and start typing again.
Are you going to Santa Barbara? To the camping thing?
Random question. Not sure.
Sorry. Are Brett and Jake?
Yes.
Why aren't you sure?
I don't know. Are you?
Don't know yet.
Why?
I don't know.
Seems like we don't know very much.
I laugh and wish I could hear his voice saying the same words. I tap the screen.
Seems like it. Okay. I was just wondering.
I'm sorry about the thing with your dad. That it bothers you.
Me too. Thanks. And thanks for talking to me.
Why wouldn't I?
I dunno. Just didn't know if you would.
Now you know.
I hesitate, then tap the screen.
I miss you.
It takes a long time for him to respond.
Do you?
Yeah.
Then why are we doing this?
I have to think before I can give him an answer.
I don't know.
Guess we're back to not knowing shit then.
I laugh.
Guess so.
If you decide to go, let me know.
Why?
It takes him a minute to respond.
Way more likely to go if you go.
A butterfly comes to life in my stomach.
Okay. Will let you know. And seriously. Thanks for talking to me.
I wait for him to respond.
But the dots never show up and I just end up staring at my phone for a long time, thinking about him.
SIX
It's the next morning and Bridget is waiting for me in the parking lot, leaning against her car. When I pull in, she stands up, and waves.
I turn the car off and wave back.
She hesitates for a second, then heads in my direction.
I get out. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she says. “I almost called you this morning.”
“Why?”
“To see if you wanted to ride together,” she says.
“Why?”
“Because coffee by myself sucks.”
I laugh and nod. “Yeah, it sort of does. Maybe we need to take turns driving.”
Her eyes light up. “Yeah?”
I hesitate, then nod. “Yeah. We'll figure it out.”
She grins. “Cool.”
We walk across the lot toward school.
“Did you think anymore about it?” she asks. “Santa Barbara?”
“I did,” I tell her. “I talked to my dad. He's cool if I go.”
“Your dad is cool,” she says.
I grunt.
“What?” she asks.
I stop just short of the doors and adjust the bag on my shoulder. “Can I tell you a secret?”
She steps closer to me. “Duh.”
I hesitate just for a second, look around, then look at her. “My dad is going on a date this weekend.”
“Your dad isn't terrible looking,” she says. “And I don't mean that in a pervy way.”
“He's going on a date with Shanna's mom,” I say.
Her eyes widen. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah. What the fuck?”
“How did that happen?” she asks.
“Not totally sure,” I say. “He told me last night. I guess they're doing some work together or something. I'm legit not sure and I didn't ask because I nearly threw up when he told me.”
“Oh god,” she says. “That sucks. Are you gonna tell him? About Shanna?”
I shake my head. “No, I don't think so. I mean, it's her mom, not Shanna. And he seems li
ke he really wants to go so I didn't want to rain on his weird adult dating parade.”
She laughs. “I can't imagine either of my parents dating anyone else. They're married and they don't even seem to like each other that much. I don't think anyone would ever date them if they were single.”
“I'd be fine if it was anyone else,” I say. “Anyone else.”
“I'm sorry,” she says. “It's totally weird.”
“I texted Trevor and told him,” I say.
Her eyes widen again. “You did? Why?”
I watch more cars pulling into the parking lot. “I don't know. I wanted to tell him.”
“Are you talking again?”
“We weren't really not talking,” I say. “We just...aren't together.”
“What did he say?”
“Same thing you did. That it's weird. He asked if I told my dad about Shanna.”
“Do you think you should?”
I shake my head. “No. And I don't plan on it.”
“You could,” she says. “He might change his mind.”
“And then I'd have to explain everything that happened,” I say. “And then I'd have to tell him about Athena and the tape. I just...I don't know. I don't want to.”
She nods, but doesn't say anything.
“What?” I ask.