Smiling, I slip the device into the cup holder, but before I can back out of my parking spot, my phone rings. “Hi, Dad.”
“How’s my favorite oldest child?”
“I’m doing well. I just had my very first massage.”
“Really,” he replies, a hint of a smile in his voice.
Man, do I miss him.
“Uh huh. It was amazing. Have you ever had one?” I ask.
“Nope. The only hands I want all over my body are your mother’s.”
“Umm, first off, gross visual,” I grumble, making him chuckle. “And second, I’m sure there are male masseurs.”
“I don’t know that’s any better, Lou.” He sighs. “Listen, your sister just stopped by the bar to tell me she’s going to your place after her softball game tomorrow.”
I can’t help but grin. I can imagine my sister blowing in like a little tornado and telling him her plans, despite knowing he won’t be a fan of them. “She mentioned something to the fact,” I reply, keeping my stance neutral.
Dad exhales long and slow. “I’m not a fan of her driving there in the dark.”
“I know,” I reply. “But sheiseighteen and graduating high school soon.”
“Don’t remind me,” he murmurs, clearly having a hard time with the fact his youngest child is about to fly the coop. I don’t say anything, because I can tell he’s struggling right now. “Anyway, I’m not sure she needs to be on the road after her game. She could just as easily head over Saturday morning.”
“I know that’s what you’d prefer, but you need to consider Em. She’s a good driver, and she’s very mature. She’s leaving for college in a few months, and then you won’t be able to control what she does like you do in Stewart Grove. Like you told me when I went off to school. All you can do is hope you taught them how to be upstanding, levelheaded adults, and pray they don’t mess it up. But if we do, you’re only a phone call away, no matter the time, day, or reason.”
I’m greeted with silence, but only for a second. “I sound much more responsible than I feel.”
I snort a laugh. “You’re the best dad in the world. You’ve taught us all well. Well, the jury’s still out on Waylon.”
His chuckle makes me smile. “Yeah, that boy…he’s his father’s son.”
“We all are.”
He sighs. “So, I should let her leave after the game to drive to your place.”
“You should,” I confirm. “And I’ll be watching and waiting for her arrival.”
“I know you will be. All right, she can head your way after.”
“Good, I have a list of things for her to help me with,” I tell him.
“Like?”
I tell him about the karaoke night starting tomorrow, and all about the band performing next weekend. “I was thinking of asking Uncle Tank to make me a platform. You know, for a stage. Something that can be moved if needed.”
“Where are you thinking?” he asks, switching from the dad hat to the bar owner one.
“The back corner by the pool table. It can be pushed to the side to create space.”
“Yeah, I see what you’re saying, but still. Might be tight. And you want to make sure your stage is big enough to accommodate larger bands.”
“I know.”
“What am I talking about, of course you know. You’re my daughter. You’ve probably thought this through a hundred different ways before coming to the conclusion you’ve settled on.”
Smiling, I confirm, “I have.”
