“You, too, hon,” she said, taking a sip of the beer she held. “Your dad’s told me so much about you. That you’re a fireman, just like him.”
“I’m a paramedic, actually,” I said, clenching my jaws at the idea that my father would lie about what I did for a living, as though my actual job were a shameful thing. Both jobs served important purposes. Both saved lives. I had been terrified to tell my father that I wasn’t going to follow in his footsteps. But then, at the beginning of my senior year, on one of the two weekends a month I spent with him at his condo instead of home with my mom, I somehow worked up the courage. We had just finished breakfast in the small nook off the kitchen, and I asked him to join me in the living room.
“Should we sit?” I asked when we stood next to the couch, and then immediately regretted it. I’d just turned eighteen, and questions like that implied my father was still in charge of my decisions.
“I’m good,” my dad said. He widened his stance and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What’s up?”
“I’ve made a decision.” I forced myself to retain eye contact with him.
“About?”
Before I answered, I straightened my posture to my full six-foot-two height, which I’d reached over the summer, finally tall enough to look my dad in the eye. A small part of me believed that, if I stood my ground about what I wanted to do with my life, my father might actually respect me. Wasn’t that what he always said he wanted from me—for me to “ball up” and “be a man”? I swallowed and went on. “I’m going to school to be a paramedic. I’m not going to be a firefighter.”
I held my breath, waiting for my father’s response. I hoped he might see that I was choosing a noble and important profession, even if it wasn’t the one he wanted me to have. I didn’t know how to articulate my need to differentiate from my father while at the same time wanting to make him proud.
My dad remained quiet for what felt like a long couple of minutes after I spoke, staring at me with void, blinking green eyes. “You gonna make fifteen dollars an hour for the rest of your life, Son?” he finally said. “Is that how you’re going to take care of a family?”
Being a paramedic would allow me to make significantly more than that, but in that moment, my father’s scorn had gutted me. It also made me even more determined to prove that I could be successful without being like him.
“Layla, honey,” my dad said now. “Why don’t you go get me another beer? And something to eat.” He held up his empty bottle and gave it a little shake. She smiled, took the bottle, then stood up, and as she turned, my dad smacked her ass, loud enough that it made the people near us turn their heads.
“That woman is pure wildcat,” my dad said under his breath, after she’d walked away. “Best blow jobs I’ve ever had.”
“Jesus, Dad,” I said. “Don’t tell me shit like that.”
“What?” he said, blustering. “Your little boy ears can’t take it?”
I stared at him, but didn’t say a word. It was safer not to.
“I hear Amber went and got herself engaged,” he continued, as though that brief, tense exchange hadn’t happened.
“Yep.”
He lowered his voice again. “You ever ride that ride? You two spent enough time together.”
“Shut up!” I said. The words came out as a hiss. “Right now, Dad. Do you understand me?” I glanced around to make sure that no one had heard him, grateful that it didn’t seem like anyone was looking our way. Layla stood by the food table, using a toothpick to nibble on tiny blocks of cheese, then set a few different appetizers on a plate.
“Whoa!” he said, holding up both hands, his palms facing me. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I was joking.”
“It wasn’t funny,” I said, even as I tried to steady my breath. My face was hot and my chest was instantly as tight as it had been that morning, before my run. Don’t lose it, now, I thought. Don’t ruin this night for Amber.
“Whatever you say,” my dad said, staring me down. Daring me to push the argument further.
“I’m going to see if I can help Tom with anything,” I said, standing up, towering over my father.
“You do that,” he said, and I walked away, feeling sick, wishing, as I had the first time I stepped foot in Amber’s backyard, that I could find a way to disappear.
? ? ?
I didn’t hear from Amber for three days after her party, nor did I reach out to her. I suspected that she’d be spending all the time she could with Daniel before he left for Seattle, and the truth was that I didn’t think I could handle witnessing more of what I already had of the two of them together—his long arm around her shoulders, his talented, going-to-be-a-doctor fingers resting on the small of her back. Whenever I looked at them during the party, he was constantly reaching out, holding her close, leaning in to kiss her. His touch was like a branding tool on her skin, a reminder that he possessed what I’d always wanted.
I left before she opened her gifts, citing my having to be up early the next morning for work. It wasn’t until Tuesday that I woke to find a text from her on my phone. “Want to get coffee?” she asked. “Our usual place?”
“Sure. See you at eleven?” I knew she meant Espresso Avellino, a small, artisan coffee shop downtown on Railroad Avenue, where we sometimes used to hang out after school or on the weekends when we didn’t have anything better to do. Her invite now confirmed that Daniel had left, and we could finally spend some time together.
Amber was already standing at the counter, placing an order, when I arrived a few minutes before eleven. The bell on the door chimed as I entered, and she turned and saw me, smiled, then signaled the barista to make two drinks. “Hey, you,” she said, giving me a quick hug when I approached.
“Hey.” I pulled a ten-dollar bill from my wallet and slid it across the counter. “Keep the change,” I told the barista, and then Amber and I took a few steps over to the corner and sat down. I leaned back against my chair, resting my fingertips on the edge of the small, square table between us. “How are you? How’s being home?”
“Weird.” She screwed up her face in a classic Amber expression, a mixture of distaste and uncertainty. “I can’t get used to the idea that I don’t have to go back to school. I keep waking up in a panic, thinking I need to call my lab partner or finish a term paper.”