He lets out an impressed whistle.
“That’s amazing. So much history,” I say eagerly. Still, Brenda’s gaze stays fixed on Renner, like I’m a dust particle.
Renner tosses her another smile. “We really appreciate you letting us take a look around so early in the morning.”
Her ample chest vibrates with giddiness. She waves a hand, like it’s no bother. “Anytime you need to come back, just give me a call. I live close, so I can always swing by,” she offers enthusiastically.
While I pick out all the necessary prom items—drapery, tablecloths, and chair covers—Renner acts like a five-year-old in a toy store, distracted by all kinds of items we don’t need. He even tries to convince me to switch to a Mardi Gras theme because of a wall mount in the shape of a giant playing card that catches his eye.
I would have happily chosen Mardi Gras over Under the Sea a month ago, but it’s too late to go back now. If he took his role as president seriously, he would know that.
We end up with ten jellyfish lanterns, an array of cardboard aquatic animals, a fisher’s net, shells, and streamers. Nori requested balloons both for a photo booth arch, and ones to drop from the ceiling when the prom court is announced, so we get an obscene number of those too.
Our selection process involves various disagreements, like which shade of blue napkins is less tacky—aqua or cyan. He’s also far too keen to rent a cardboard cutout of Jaws.
I wait beside the van, shifting my weight to relieve my feet while Renner loads the back with decor. I catch the flex of his muscly arms straining against his cotton T-shirt, and a single bead of sweat rolls down my temple. It must be the heat.
I tear my eyes away as my phone vibrates in my hand.
It’s Dad.
EIGHT
Odd. Dad never calls me directly. He prefers to go through Mom like I’m a small child.
Against my better judgment, I pick up. “Hello?”
“Charlotte. It’s Dad.” It seems ridiculous that he needs to clarify, but I guess we hardly speak.
“Hi?” I say, hoping he’ll just skip right to the point.
Pregnant pause. Something is up. “Did your mother tell you I called?”
“She did. Sorry I didn’t call you back. I’ve just been really busy with school and stuff.”
“No worries. Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me in the city.” His tone is stilted. Almost robotic, as if he’s reading from a script.
I’m momentarily distracted by Renner attempting to Tetris a clownfish cutout into the van bed. He’s going to scrape the paint if I don’t intervene soon. “Uh, I’m a little busy right now with prom and grad. I don’t think I can make it. Maybe in the summer?” I offer, purely out of guilt. Should I be more excited at the prospect of seeing my father? Probably.
“That’s actually exactly what I was hoping to discuss with you.”
Renner manages to wedge the clownfish in, wiping his dirty hands on his jeans.
“Charlotte?” Dad repeats.
I shake my head, willing myself to focus. “Sorry. I really don’t think I can make it to the city till after school ends.”
“Oh, okay.” He actually sounds disappointed.
Guilt takes hold of my insides, squeezing tighter and tighter, until I remember how heartbroken I was when he basically disappeared from my life. He’s missed almost everything important since, like every holiday, middle school grad, when I received an award for my work on the student senate, and every single Model UN summit except for one. “Can’t you just say what you wanted on the phone?”
“I—I suppose so,” he says, unsure of himself. “Alexandra and I are pregnant.” He says her name with an undeserved air of familiarity, as though she’s part of our family. As though I’ve met her and we’re besties or something.
“Pregnant?” I narrowly manage to avoid choking on my saliva. Dad’s having a baby? With a woman he’s only been dating a couple of months?
“She’s due in November. We’re really excited.”
I’m stunned as he rambles on about Alexandra’s cravings, how they’ll be staying at Alexandra’s family lake house in Fairfax, a quaint, Shakespearean-themed town half an hour from Maplewood, and how he’s going to slow things down at work, maybe even work from the lake house when the baby comes. That last statement catches me off guard. Work has always been Dad’s number-one priority. Never me. Now he’s slowing down? For his future child?
“I was also wondering . . . Well, Alexandra and I were wondering if you’d be interested in staying at the lake house for the summer. We have a spare bedroom and the beach is barely a minute away—”
Stay with them at their lake house? For the whole summer? This is completely out of left field. Out of this universe. I could understand if he invited me for a weekend—and even that would be out of character. But an entire summer? Where is this coming from?
Renner flashes me a brief look of concern from where he’s loading things into the trunk. I avoid his eyes, casting my stare at the gravel under my feet.
I think about all the years Dad and I have been estranged. All the times I wished my dad had shown up, when all my friends had theirs.
Tears threaten my lash line, but I manage to hold them at bay. I want to yell at him and tell him how I feel. How unfair it is to spring this on me. How angry I am at him for missing all this time with me when he’ll be with his new child every day, bearing witness to every milestone. But all that comes out is, “Dad, I don’t know. I’ll have to call you back.”
A pause. “I know it’s last minute. I wanted to reach out earlier, but we wanted to make sure the spare room would be ready.”
“I just—I don’t know if I can come.”
Another pause. “Well, give it some thought and let me know, okay, kiddo?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
Dad starts rambling nervously about how busy I must be with the end of the school year, but I barely hear a word.
Renner clears his throat, reminding me again of his pesky presence. He has one leg propped behind him against the van. His brow is furrowed in an expression that vaguely resembles concern. This is just crap-tastic. He is the last person I want around when I’m having a personal crisis. It’s too much. I can’t deal. Impulsively, I hit “End” on the call.
Renner backs away slightly as I hobble toward the van on account of my blisters from yesterday. “Uh, you okay?”
“It was my dad. He’s having a baby. With his girlfriend of a couple months,” I say tersely. He already heard my conversation anyway.
Renner settles into the driver’s seat. “Um, I take it that’s not exactly good news?”
I fasten my seat belt, eyes glued on the windshield for a minute before I finally take a breath. “I don’t know,” I say, already feeling guilty for not being thrilled for him and Alexandra. Objectively I know a baby is happy news. But why does it make me feel so awful?
“Maybe it could be fun. To have a little sister or brother,” he offers. “Especially since you’re an only child—”
“My dad and I don’t speak. And I’ve never even met his girlfriend,” I cut in, hoping he’ll drop it.
And he does.
The gym is empty except for me and Renner, who is currently outside grabbing the decor from the van. School doesn’t start for another hour.
I’m brainstorming how I’ll assign the tasks when everyone else arrives when my phone vibrates again.
Dad: I forgot to add on the phone, Alexandra wants to know what your favorite color is. She wants to have the spare room painted this weekend.
As I read the text, my brain pummels me with images of children being hugged and adored by their dads. I fumble for the wall behind me.
Feeling faint, I starfish down on the mat and cover my face with my hands. My cheeks are wet and my fingers blacken with mascara. The sight of my hands ignites a full-body sob.
Through my tears, I vaguely make out Renner hauling an old, rickety ladder from the storage room. He comes to an abrupt stop when he sees me.