Page 101 of Try Me
“Have you been eating breakfast?” I asked first thing, checking his hands for tremors. I’d gone off on him about it when it’d happened again the last time I’d visited.
Dad chuckled. “Yes, every day since I knew you’d ask.” He patted the top of the table gently. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
I filled him in on the internship and the offer in DC, and no matter how much I thought I’d detached from him over the years, seeing the swell of pride in his eyes still got me right in the chest.
“That judge’ll be lucky to have you. Same with law school. M’proud of you son, always have been.” He fell silent for a moment, then looked down at his hands. “I wish I hadn’t fucked it up so badly for you, Carrie, and your mother.”
And fuck me, I started crying then. I couldn’t help it. My heart split down the middle between understanding and awareness of what my dad was to other people and the father he’d been to me. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to reconcile the paradox. But I realized I didn’t have to.
I nodded to show him I’d heard. I thought he understood that I couldn’t tell him it was okay, that it’d never be okay, but that I could love him for the other memories he’d given me.
“I’m seeing someone,” I said when I could. “Actually, more than seeing someone. He’s my boyfriend.”
“Mark Farrow,” he said with a smile. “I saw the picture of the two of you in the paper. You make a very good-looking couple. He’s dating up, of course.”
“Dad, Jesus. That’s not true.”
He laughed. “I’ll bet his father had a field day with that.”
I started to tell him the whole story, then stopped myself. I didn’t want to promote any more bad blood than what already existed. I just wanted to look toward the future. “He struggled with it a lot at first, but he’ll come around.”
“He kissed me once, did I ever tell you that?”
My mouth fell open. “You’re shitting me. What?”
Dad chuckled again. “It was back in college. Big party at the frat house one night. You know we were tight back then. Big buds. Did everything together. Shared a girl on occasion, stuff like—”
I covered my eyes. “No, stop. And so help me God, if you’re about to tell me you and his parents were swingers together, I’ll bludgeon my eyeballs out.”
The guard shot me a warning glare, so I lowered my voice. “Why the hell did he kiss you? Wait, were you—”
“No, no.” He waved me off. “Nothing like that. We were shitfaced one night. Said he always wanted to try it with someone. So we did. It wasn’t for me, but I think he was pretty all right with it. ’Course, back then, things weren’t as progressive as they are now.”
I tried to imagine Mark’s dad putting the moves on mine, but it threatened to make me self-immolate on the spot, so I held up a hand to stop him. “We are never speaking of that again. But very interesting to know.”
When I walked into the parking lot a half hour later, I could see through the windshield that Mark had reclined the seat and fallen back asleep. He had one hand flung over his eyes, the other still gripping the juice he’d grabbed before we left. Angled precariously on his thigh, it was one sleep twitch away from dousing his crotch.
The sun streaked gold highlights through the dusting of hair on his forearms, and I knew exactly how the stubble on his jaw would feel against mine, knew exactly how he’d look at me when I opened the car door and slid inside.
After he quit cursing from the juice, of course.
I smiled like a fool, my steps light on the warm asphalt. Lighter than they’d been in years. I had my best friend back, and I’d gained the love of my life, too.
Three years, seventeen days, and thirteen hours. That was how long it had taken me to truly start over. And as I opened the car door, and Mark moved his arm to peer up at me with those deep sea-blues, I couldn’t help but think that despite the pain, it’d all been worth it.
“I love you,” I said, basking in the slow smile that spread over his face, and enjoying just as much the moment it twisted in shock when his juice tipped over and covered his lap.
The car filled with the sound of his shouted curses.
“I told you to put that thing in the cup holder. You never listen.” I leaned over him, pressing a kiss to his temple before reaching into the glove compartment and handing him some napkins. “Wait until you hear what my dad just told me. It’s the craziest thing.”
Epilogue
“Pan the camera down, let me see it.”
I pursed my lips but complied, adjusting the angle on my phone.
“Okay. Passable.”