“Not as much as I do,” my dad said, his eyes welling up with tears.
“No,” I said, feeling my chest tighten and my throat start to close. “No,” I repeated, pointing accusingly at him while trying to focus my attention out of the front windshield so I wouldn’t miss our turn. “You are not allowed to make me cry. This is a happy trip.” After finding the road and making the turn I risked glancing back at my father. “We’ve cried enough tears haven’t we?” I asked, sniffling back my own tears.
My father cleared his throat. “That we have. That we have.” I turned into the driveway but instead of parking in front of the garage next to the other cars I’d prearranged with Mr. Ronson a few houses down from the house to use his driveway so Preppy wouldn’t see his surprise before it was time. My stomach flipped wondering what his response would be.
“He’s not like other guys,” I explained to my dad for the seventh time since we’ve been in the car together. Earlier Ray and I picked him up at the airport in King’s truck before she dropped both of us off at the auto-transport center to receive the car and make sure it survived the journey. I had held my breath through the entire inspection, but luckily, she was good to go.
I went to grab my dad’s bag from the trunk but he stopped me. “I’m staying with an old friend in town. No need to take that out. I’ll pull it out when I call for a cab later.”
“What friend?” I asked, he hadn’t mentioned a single thing in the weeks leading up to his visit. I’d always just assumed he’d stay with us.
He switched the subject and led me away from the car before I could ask him more about this mystery friend. “And don’t you worry about what I’m going to think of him. You’ll remember that I have spoken to him a couple of times before so I have a little idea.”
You have no fucking idea.
“Yes, but those weren’t good conversations. I just, I don’t want you to hate him. It’s important to me.”
“Darling,” he said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me in close as we made our way over to the gate. “I’m your dad,” he lowered his voice to a whisper when we heard the partygoers in the backyard and saw the flame of the bonfire. “It’s my duty to hate whoever you choose to love. But,” he flashed me a big smile. “You’re not exactly like other young women so why would I expect you to be with a man like all the others? Have you seen that dating show? The Single Man? Honestly if that’s what the young men of today behave like then I’m glad you like this man who ...how does the saying go? Likes to beat hard on his own drum.”
I chuckled at his total failure to say ‘Beat of his own drum’, but when it came to Preppy, beat his own drum hard worked just as well. “Yeah, Dad. Something like that. And...” I paused and turned to him. “Just...thank you. For everything,” I said in an almost whisper. “I don’t deserve a dad as great as you.”
“Yes, you do,” he argued as we started walking again. You deserve the world.”
“One more thing,” he said, pointing his finger in the air as the thought came to him.
“What?” I asked, a knee jerk sense of dread hit me instantly.
My dad contorted his face. “Do I have to call him Preppy?” And with that the dread cleared and we made our way into the party, arm and arm, laughing.
I never answered him.
Ray and Thia were already sitting around the fire talking. I introduced my dad to both of them and then to Billy who got my dad talking about saltwater fishing in no time. While they chatted I scanned the yard for Preppy who was in the corner talking with King and Bear. Their voices traveled as they all spoke excitedly.
“You were there dammit!” Bear yelled, pacing back and forth. Preppy covered his mouth with his hand like he was stifling a laugh. “You talked to me every single day. You were like my...my voice of reason or some shit like that.”
“Do you know how fucking stupid that sounds, Bear?” Preppy asked. “I mean, let’s put aside your delusion that you heard me talking inside your big head when you thought I was dead...” he raised his arm above his head and pointed down to himself. “...And let’s focus on what the fuck you were smoking that made you think that THIS GUY RIGHT HERE could ever be your voice of fucking reason?”
Bear tugged at his hair and growled. “Fuck it, I give up on life, man.”
“Good call. Because seriously, you’re sucking at it,” Preppy said, followed by King’s deep bellowing laugh and a groan from Bear.
As if he sensed me looking at him he turned around. When our eyes met his smile only grew brighter. He jogged across the yard and lifted me up into his arms. “I have a surprise for you,” I murmured into his ear.
“Anal?” he shouted the question. The yard grew silent and the dozen or so party goers turned their attention to us, including my dad who cleared his throat.
“Prep?” I asked, he still hadn’t let me down and was snuggling his nose into my hair.
“This is my dad,” I said. Preppy let finally let me go and in the most Preppy move ever he also seemed to give no shits that he just shouted the word ANAL in front of my father who he was meeting for the first time.
“Hi Mr. Capulet. I’m Samuel Clearwater,” Preppy announced happily, “I’ve thought about this moment a lot and I wanted to let you know that I will take no less than three furlongs of land and seven of your finest milking goats. That’s my final offer, Sir.” Then, without missing a beat he ignored my father’s still extended hand and wrapped him in a tight hug without moving me out of the way first. Therefore, I became the meat in a hug sandwich between my two favorite men in the entire world.
I also couldn’t breathe.
I’d never been happier.
“Excuse me, son?” my dad asked after Preppy finally let us go. Well, let my dad go. I was still plastered to his side. His arm around my waist, his fingers dancing on my hip.
Still.
Never happier.
“I thought that’s how this whole thing works? First the men negotiate. That’s how they do it in the movies. Although we are doing it a little backwards so I can understand the confusion,” Preppy deadpanned.
“What the fuck kind of movies are you watching?” I asked, not even caring that I just swore in front of my father who was staring at Preppy as if he just sprouted another head from his neck. I couldn’t NOT smile up at him and his craziness. “Furlongs? Goats?”
Preppy shrugged, “I don’t know, Doc, the kind where farm animals and land are exchanged before shit like this goes down. Maybe it was the Princess Bride...” he wondered, looking off to the bay for a beat before focusing his smile back on my dad whose eyebrows were drawn in so tight they made a V down the middle of his forehead so sharp I thought it might slice his face in two.