Authors: Mari Arden
Jessica came back to
the table with a refill of Dr. Pepper and a basket of fresh rolls. I
grabbed one up and slathered it with butter, before devouring it. I
hadn’t realized I was hungry until we got here.
“Slow down, Mara.
You’re going to choke yourself,” dad chuckled.
“Hungry,” I mumbled
around a mouthful of roll.
Dad laughed. “That’s
very ladylike Mara,” he said.
“Bite me,” I
growled.
“Girls,” he
muttered. “Why couldn’t I have had a son?”
“Because I’m
awesome and way better than any boy,” I swallowed. I added a flip
of my hair for emphasis.
My dad laughed. “Mara,
Mara, Mara,” he sighed.
“Oh,” I said,
swallowing a bite of bread. I took a swig of soda for good measure.
“Did you know that guy, the one with the dark hair and clothes,
leaning against the bleachers?”
“I didn’t see
anyone,” he said, way too quickly.
I narrowed my hazel
eyes at him. “Really? I saw you looking at him.”
“No,” he said, “I
saw no one.”
I swallowed some more
soda and stared at my dad. I knew I saw the boy, and he had
definitely been looking at him too. So why was he acting like the guy
didn’t exist? It was peculiar to say the least.
Jessica came out with
our food. A B.L.T. and fries for me and an artery clogging cheese
burger for my dad.
My dad bit into his
burger, chewed, and said, “I don’t know what I’ll do with you
off at college next year. I’ll sure miss you baby girl.”
“Dad,” I whined.
“Don’t make me cry. I have all summer with you. Don’t say
goodbye yet. Besides,” I added, “I’m still going to be living
at home and working around here. I’m only taking one class.” One
class was, sadly, all I could afford.
My dad patted my hand.
“It’s never too soon to say goodbye. Remember that, Mara.”
“What do you mean?”
I asked.
He swallowed. “I just
mean that. Sometimes you don’t have a chance to say goodbye.”
“You’re talking
about mom aren’t you?”
He sighed. “Of
course… among other things.”
His eyes kept darting
around the restaurant. It was strange behavior for my father. He
wasn’t normally so jumpy. I found myself constantly looking over my
shoulder, expecting some kind of trouble.
Jessica came by with
the ticket and dad couldn’t get it paid and out of there fast
enough.
On the way home he kept
glancing in the rearview mirror. But I never saw anything.