Diana was pulling something that smelled like what heaven must out of the oven and, before I could respond to Trey, I heard a soft rap at the back door. I shouldn’t admit this, but I didn’t know whether to feel excited or a little annoyed or something in between. I loved my dad so much. But ever since Mom had died, things were… awkward. She was the glue that held us together. It was sort of like when you were great friends with someone in a group but when you finally hung out solo, you had nothing to talk about. That was us. But we were trying. And sometimes trying was enough, right?
And he was an amazing dad. When I started my blog, my dad got on Facebook so that he could make a bunch of friends and share my posts every day. That’s the kind of dad he was. He supported us in everything we did. And, truth be told, he had taught me everything I had ever known about business and hard work.
I hugged him and said, “Hey, Dad. Thanks for coming.” After Mom had died, Dad couldn’t bear to be alone in theirhouse in Raleigh. He had bought a small condo over on the beach, about three rows back from the ocean. We were ten minutes apart, but we only saw each other a few times a month.
He nodded. I noticed he had put on a collared shirt with his jeans and flip-flops. It didn’t matter to me what he wore, but I appreciated the effort. “How’s it going, kiddo?”
I shrugged. “It’s going.”
If I had said that to Mom, she would have known that was an entry point, pushed me for more. But Dad didn’t know that. If I said I was fine, I was fine.
“Greg and I just can’t seem to reach an agreement about the company,” I added as I waved him inside.
We sat down in the living room at the front of the house, which was rarely used, if ever.
“You know, baby girl, you’re just not on my level anymore. Your old dad doesn’t even know how to tell you what to do.”
Thiswas what drove me insane. Yes, I had done well. I had worked my ass off for it, and I’d gotten a little lucky too. But he was always so dramatic about my success, as if I had purposely used it to drive us apart.
“Your mom and I, we were always just normal. We had what we needed. We had a few extras. We gave our girls a nice life—”
“You gave us a great life, Dad.”
That was true. We hadn’t had cable, so we’d read library books. We didn’t belong to a pool, so we’d spent our summers running around the yard with the neighborhood kids. And my dad had been the one to swallow his pain, to hold it together, tolove my mother with all his heart even when she was mired so deeply in her devastation that she couldn’t get out of bed.
Even still, it annoyed me that we were here again. I was reassuring him when what I needed was for someone to tell me I’d be okay.
There was silence; then Dad said, “Well, that’s why some couples stay together, I guess. It’s not that they don’t have problems; it’s just easier than ending things.” Before I had time to object, he said, “Where’s that grandson of mine?”
I was thinking the exact same thing.
Dad sat at the head of the table for lunch with Wagner and me on either side.
“Diana,” I said a little too enthusiastically as she brought the food to the table, “don’t you want to join us?Please?” I had told her earlier I didn’t like it when she served our food, but she’d said in the South, family lunches were supper and they were proper food with someone serving it, not some slapped-together sandwich.
She gave me a face like she’d sooner die and said, “Oh, can’t. So much organizing to do in Wagner’s room.” That was actually impossible. Wagner’s room resembled a well-curated museum.
“So, kiddo,” Dad was saying to Wagner, “Mom tells me that you’re quite the tennis pro.”
Tennis pro. Andrew. Butterflies. Smiling too big.Get yourself together, Gray.
Wagner nodded enthusiastically, taking a sip of his milk. “I’ve played practically every day since the trip!”
“That’s great, man,” Dad said. “I can’t wait to come watch you sometime.”
We were settling in now, the awkwardness dissipating with each bite of food. What I really needed was a nice cold bottle of Sancerre. But Dad didn’t drink at all, and I couldn’t bear the brunt of his disapproval yet again today.
Wagner thought for a minute, chewing his last bite of corn. Diana’s steamer-pot shrimp boil was his favorite thing to eat these days. “Well, I don’t have a tennis court here, but I can show you my soccer moves!”
Dad and I raised our eyebrows at each other and smiled.
“Do you think you ought to wait until your food settles a minute?” I asked, always the cool mom.
“Nah,” he said, running out the door, leaving it open and calling, “Okay. Now, don’t take your eyes off me for a second!”
Dad smiled at me. “He seems like he’s doing pretty good.”
I nodded. “Yeah. He’s adjusted really well. It’s kind of shocking.” I laughed. “I think he has adjusted better than I have.”
