Before You Go

SIXTEEN

Lonely in my apartment, I take Dad and Amy up on their dinner invitation. I could use the company, food, and a few new books for English Lit.

“Do you mind if I check out your library?” I ask Dad. The front room of their house is filled with books. Dad is all about the classics, odd cultures, and political debates. Amy’s shelves are filled with the ladies, from Jane Austen to Alice Walker. Between the two of them, I should find something that’ll work for Professor Sands’ class.

“I need a novel for my lit class,” I add.

“Of course, Tabby.” I can hear the hope ring in Dad’s voice at the mention of literature. It doesn’t get much better for him. “You don’t have to ask, just take what you need,” he says with a smile.

The book search turns out to be a great distraction. From Noah. From Jenna. From everything. Caught up in the shelves, I spend hours combing Dad and Amy’s stacks. I feel at home in the warm room outlined in mahogany bookshelves, flanked by two windows on each wall. The ceiling, framed in the same mahogany molding, creates a cozy nook that’s flooded with memories from all my visits growing up. All of the times I spread my books over the red and orange tapestry rug—now faded from the sun—as I did my homework over Christmas break. Or put puzzles together with my dad. On the shelf, I find an old tattered copy of Lord of the Flies. I snuggle into the leather club chair and close my eyes to take a short break before diving into a story about survival and loss of innocence—which couldn’t be more perfect.

When I open my eyes, I’m still curled up on Dad’s chair. I wipe away the sleep from my eyes and watch the sun come up through the leaded glass window. I slept through the night. Amazing.

Despite my achy neck from sleeping on a chair, I feel rested and almost ready to face another day.

On my way out, I run into Dad.

“Late night cramming?” he asks.

“Yeah, I can’t believe I fell asleep. I better get home so I’m not late for class.”

“Honey,” Dad starts. Nothing good ever comes out of his mouth after he calls me honey.

“Before you go, your Mom called and wants to know why you haven’t gotten back to her. Did you get her emails?”

“Oh, yeah,” I squirm. “I’ve just been busy, I haven’t had a chance to get back to her yet. I’ll do it today.”

“Good,” he says, but somehow I know he’s not done.

“I talked to her for a bit and she wants us all to spend Thanksgiving together.”

I roll my eyes.

Dad pushes down a smirk before he says he thinks it’s a good idea.

I sigh and pretend I didn’t hear that last part. He won’t like my response, so I simply grab my book and head to campus.