I turned to my dad in surprise. "What do you mean?"
He shrugged and scratched his nose. "Your girl got me thinking. It wasn't that we didn't think you had talent or that you would fail. You're our son. We've always believed in you." He shrugged again as he fingered the label on his beer. "But as a parent, you worry about your children struggling, about being bullied, about whether they'll find a good job."
I nodded in understanding. "Honestly, I thought you were embarrassed by me."
"What?" My dad placed his beer on the coffee table as he faced me fully. Shock was etched in his features. "Embarrassed? What do you mean?"
Now it was my turn to feel awkward. I eyed the stairs, willing my mom and Sofia to come back.
I shrugged self-consciously. "You know, I was this nerdy, chubby kid who played War of Warcraft, Dungeons and Dragons and doodled in my notebook instead of going outside to play sports. I wanted to make you proud."
A few times growing up, I overheard my parents talking late at night about my weight and my lack of interest in going outdoors and being active. My feelings were hurt, especially when my dad would spend hours kicking a ball around with Barron.
"Ah, Son," he shook his head mournfully. "I'm sorry if your mom and I made you feel that way. The truth is, I loved your creativity, even if I didn't understand it. I was only worried because you were getting bullied and had such low self-esteem as a kid. We were told it wasn't normal to be indoors playing video games all day and dressing up as a dragon from sky fall."
"Draugr from Skyrim," I corrected.
"When you asked to attend football camp and joined the team, I just assumed you grew out of it."
The summer before my Sophomore year, I told my dad that I wanted to attend an entry level football camp for summer. His eyes had lit up in joy and I felt my chest swell with pride. He spent a few weeks tossing a ball around with me, surprised that I had a knack for it. I wasn't surprised. I knew how to throw and catch a ball, but that didn't mean I enjoyed it.
I hated every minute of football camp. But I came out of it with a ton of weight lost. Girls at school who had previously ignored me now clambered to spend time with me; guys who had called me 'tubster' and mocked mynerdshirts now high-fived me in the hallways. But more importantly, my dad was taking a genuine interest in me.
The high of becoming popular was addictive. By the time Junior year started, I had abs, a position on the football team and was fucking both the Class President and the Head Cheerleader.
My dad got into my ear about art being a dead-end career and encouraged me to focus on a football scholarship, which I managed to snag. And the rest was history.
Now that I think back on it, it was ridiculous that I let my parent's words become my whole personality.
"I'm horrified that I pushed you into a career you didn't want." He shook his head again before taking a big swig of his beer.
"No, Dad." I placed my drink down. "I love my career. Truthfully. I've always been good at math and economics, so I would've gone down this path if the art thing hadn't worked. And I'm glad I did. I find it rewarding, I learn something new nearly every day, and I like to think I help people."
"You do." My dad nodded. "Your neighbor, Francine. She can't stop raving about you and all the help you've given her and Henry. I'm proud of you, Son. And I'm glad you coerced me into helping her."
I laughed because I did nag at him to take Francine on and to do it pro bono. It had been worth it to see the relief on Francine's face. It was one less thing for her to worry about. Plus, she paid me in cookies and lasagna, and you really couldn't put a price on that.
"Thanks, Dad. That means a lot to me."
"I'll admit, I was put out when you showed no interest in law. I loved spending time with you on the football field, I saw us carrying on a partnership professionally. I knew nothing of the finance world and was worried that you wouldn't succeed without me helping you." His brow was furrowed, incredulous and ashamed that he had those thoughts.
I swirled my bottle of beer around as I stared a hole in the frothy liquid. Dad and I avoided eye contact, still unused to unloading our grievances and regrets out loud.
"But hearing that girl of yours stick up for you and sing your praises; it was the wake up call I needed." Dad finally looked at me before turning his head to glance up the stairway where mom and Sofia disappeared to. Their indiscernible chatter and occasional laughter floated down to us, warming my heart.
He leaned towards me. "I'm a little scared of her," he confided in a conspiratorial whisper.
I tossed my head back and laughed. "Me, too." I confessed with a smirk.
A giant weight lifted off my shoulders. If it weren't for Sofia, I would've never had this moment to clear the air with my dad. More proof that she belonged with me. She just made everything and everyone around her better.
Mom and Sofia returned, chatting and laughing like old friends. My heart beat faster, and I almost caught my breath when a wave of love hit me.
Seeing the intense look on my face, she approached me with a frown.
"All good?" She asked as she sat beside me with a gentle hand on my leg. She eyed my dad up and down, and I wanted to laugh at the suspicious look she gave him, as if daring my dad to say something negative.
My dad quickly averted his eyes and downed his beer; a small flush slashed across his cheeks.
