“For what?” He looks at me almost expressionless.
“For understanding I guess. And supporting me.”
“Understanding, sure. You’re my daughter, Claire Bear. Nothing would ever stop me from loving you.” I smile proudly because I know he’s right. My dad may find fault in the little things, but there has never been a question in my mind of whether or not he loves me anyway — a luxury I’m now seeing not everyone has.
An image of Jay hunched over the counter pops into my mind and my smile flattens. I’m not sure we’re atlovejust yet, but I plan on making it my mission to show him what it means to be cared for. To make sure he never feels that sting with me.
“I know, Dad.”
“But I never said I supported this.”
I rip the napkin I’m playing with in two. “What?”
“You’re throwing away everything you’ve worked for. And why? Because it’s notfun?”
I stop him. “It’s more than that.”
“Right. You aren’t thrilled to go to work every day. I hate to break it to you, Claire, but most people don’t jump out of bed to run to their jobs in the morning.”
“Dad, I’m twenty-four—”
He cuts me off. “Correct. You are twenty-four years old, Claire.” He stands, his chair skidding against the hardwood floor, then walks aroundthe table to where I still sit, dumbfounded. “It’s time to grow up, kiddo.” Kissing me on the head, he leaves for the kitchen.
I hear the water running and dishes clanking as my parents clean up dinner, completely unaware that I sit behind the wall, the rug ripped right out from underneath me. I’m frustrated and angry and I’m not even sure if it’s at him or at myself for not seeing this coming. I know Dad, and just as he said, he’ll love me through this, but to openly not support me?
I can see it now. Not much will change except for maybe receiving emails with job listings for classroom teachers with subjects likeJust Think About ItorSomething to Consider. He won’t be openly mad or throw a fit, but he’ll sneak in reminders anytime work comes up or passively bring up the fact that I am unemployed.
I didn’t expect aJust Fired!lawn sign or anOfficially Unemployedwall banner, but for once, I thought maybe he could keep his opinion on the matter to himself and just stand behind me.
Mom has her thoughts on it, I know that, but at the end of the day, if I’m happy, she’s happy. By tomorrow, she’ll be on to the next meal train or craft fair. She’ll be sad for me when the subject comes up, but once the dust settles, all will be well.
But Dad will never let this go, not completely. It’ll be an ongoing game of Whac-A-Mole trying to dodge his subtle digs and that thought alone is enough to exhaust me already.
At this point, I’d at least take the lawn sign.
35
Jamison
I’ve had a little bit of pep in my step the last couple of days if I’m being completely honest. I’m trying not to get too used to it because from my experience, happiness never lasts long, but ever since Claire and I spent the night together, I can’t seem to wipe this goddamn smile off of my face.
Of course, like always, there were parts when I nearly fucked it all up. Like when I let my lack of nicotine, and forgiveness, get the best of me. But even then, Claire and all of her goodness seemed to rectify it. We spent the whole night getting to know each other physically and the whole next day learning one another in every other way. Most of me is terrified — scared beyond belief to be giving this much of myself to someone, but it’s like I can’t control it. When I’m with her, I’m another version of myself. A version that is more relaxed, more open, and more like the person that I want to be. Like the type of person who talks about the type of person they want to be. Which is why I am here, at Sean’s house, voluntarily showing up without force or a guilt trip.
I step onto Sean’s porch and put out my cigarette before knocking on his teal door, amazed as always, that Sean has atealdoor. Most of his house amazes me actually. Sean lives in the house he grew up in, which alone blows my mind. I lived in so many houses that I wouldn’t even be able to tell you which one was my childhood home because they all were. Or none of them were. But Sean has lived in this one since he was a kid.
Just recently this year, his parents both retired and decided to buy an RV and travel together. I thought that only happened in movies until hetold me. So, now Sean lives in a three-bedroom, two-bathroom home in a quiet development, a few streets over from my apartment. The house is light gray with a white porch railing wrapped around the front, flower boxes hanging from the windows, and atealwooden door.
“It’s open!” he calls from inside the house. I texted him earlier saying I was coming by since our days off happened to align. I haven’t gotten a chance to catch up with him much so far this week. Holiday weeks are always jam-packed to make up for lost business, and since we're closed on the Fourth, this week is no different. Normally, I wouldn’t think anything of it, but Claire has asked more than once if Sean is okay after this weekend.
I’m hit with the smell of ramen noodles first thing in the morning as I pass through the door. Sean may live in his mother’s house but her home-cooked meals left when she did. Where Mrs. Bell would make hearty comfort foods like beef stew and shepherd's pie, Sean now gets by on frozen burritos and packaged noodles.
“Dude, I swear to God if you aren’t wearing pants…” I yell down the hall before entering the living room. The last time I was here, Sean was three episodes deep in a Law and Order Special Victims Unit marathon, drinking soda through a Twizzler straw and not wearing pants. Is he a sixteen-year-old girl going through a break-up? No, he just relaxes like one.
“No promises!” he calls back and thankfully for him, he’s kidding. He is, however, eating ramen with plastic training chopsticks with a smiling panda at the top.
“Sometimes I question how you’re an actual adult,” I say looking at his meal. He shovels a heap of noodles into his mouth, slurping up the ends. He chews only half before speaking.
“I’m a grownup when I have to be. And otherwise…” He gestures to his current situation. The TV loop today is Cops reruns and there’s no Twizzler straw, but that panda is definitely looking at me.
