Going public with Dana was something I stressed about all week, just for it to not happen. I’m worried about the world knowing, but not to the point that I’ll cancel my plans. The only reason it didn’t happen is because of Dana’s new job. I don’t want to jeopardize her career for something that doesn’t have to be so dramatic right now.

It makes me think about my priorities. Dana is a lot more important to me than a lot of other things. I don’t care what the world thinks, even if what they think is negative.

Why, then, am I avoiding my dad over our relationship?

What he thinks of me means a lot more than what the rest of the world thinks. I don’t want to disappoint him. At the same time, I realize he needs to hear it straight from me. Even if he already has his suspicions, if we went public and he heard it over the news, I would feel like I’ve betrayed him somehow.

I’m glad we’re waiting a little, even if it is just long enough for me to talk to my dad about it. I don’t necessarily want his blessing, but I want him to know what’s going on in my life so that he doesn’t hear about it on the news like the rest of the world.

A meeting that was set up on Monday morning is canceled. I decide to drive to the studio. Susan invites me in with a smile and hugs me.

“How are you?” she asks, and I know what she means.

“Good, thank you,” I say tightly. I don’t want to talk to her about anything. I’m not here for some hippie love advice.

“Is my dad here?” I ask.

She nods. “He’s in the storage room, sorting through some new pieces we just got in and putting them into the system.”

I nod and thank her. I make my way to the storage room and knock on the half open door before stepping into the room. My dad looks up at me from a clipboard, and he looks happy to see me.

“Come on in,” he says and removes a file from a stool, pushing it toward me. “Sit down. I’m just tagging this stuff.”

I nod and sit down. For a while, I watch him go through his little system, processing the paintings. They’re a little abstract for my taste, but the room is filled with works that have emotions on canvas, and it’s not a bad place to be in. I feel a little out of place in my suit pants and collared shirt and tie.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” my dad finally says, putting his clipboard down and picking up a painting to study it closer.

“A meeting was canceled, and they have it covered at the office. I thought I’d drop by.”

“Very nice,” my dad says, still looking at the painting, and I’m not sure if he’s talking about my visit or the art.

“I want to talk to you about Dana.” There’s no reason to make small talk. I don’t have that much time, and I feel like making small talk will only postpone the inevitable hostility.

My dad glances at me.

“What about your sister?” he asks. I know he’s saying it like that on purpose.

“Stepsister, Dad. And we’re not related. That’s what I want to talk to you about. We’re thinking about going public. We were actually considering it this Friday.”

My dad looks at me, the painting finally forgotten.

“And why didn’t you?” he asks.

I shrug. “It’s not always that easy to swim against the current.”

He sighs. “Well, that’s true.”

A moment of silence hangs between us, and I wait for him to fill it. Eventually, he does.

“You know I’m not going to be okay with it. I’m not going to tell you it’s okay with me if you’re with her. It’s taboo, for God’s sake, and for a reason.”

I shake my head. “I’m not here to ask your blessing or anything. I just thought you had a right to know, to hear it from me, instead of on the news when it does come out.”

My dad frowns at me. “You’re serious about this?”

I nod. “Didn’t you think I was?”

He shakes his head. “We all have fantasies. We all enjoy the idea of something dangerous. But these things pass. It’s a phase.”

“Dana is not a phase,” I say.

My dad sighs. “So, you’re serious about her, huh?”

I nod. I don’t have to hide it, I’m sure he can tell that I’m serious enough if I’m here to talk to him about it. My dad pulls up another stool and sits down. We’re both balanced on stools that are too small for our bodies, one leg on the floor, one leg hitched on the bar between the legs, facing each other.

“So, you’re going to do this, no matter what I say.”

I nod again.

“Then tell me how you feel about her. Tell me what it is about her that makes you want to risk your reputation and all the relationships in your life. Because not everyone is going to be okay with it.”

I take a deep breath.

“I can’t tell you everything about her that makes me happy. There’s too much for that. But you know her. You know how she can make even the small things come to life through her excitement. She’s creative and kind and gentle, and she reaches out to people just because. She has her flaws, but they pale in comparison to all the good things I can name about her.”

My dad nods, slowly.

“Do you love her?” he asks.

I hesitate. Love is a strong word, and the label is quite permanent.

“I love her in a lot of ways,” I say. “After all, we’ve lived in the same house for years. But I think I’m in love with her, too. It’s not just platonic. It’s never been. It’s more than that, and it keeps growing.”

My dad scrutinizes my face, his eyes searching mine for a clue, an answer, something. I’m not sure what he’s hoping to find.

“Look, I can’t say I’m happy about it. It still makes me uncomfortable. I don’t think it’s natural.”

I open my mouth to say something, but he holds up his hand.

“I know you’re going to tell me you’re not related, and you’re right. You’re not. In theory, there’s nothing wrong with it. You deserve to be happy, and love is rare so I’m not going to give you hell about it. I just can’t wrap my head around it right away, okay?”

I nod. It’s fair enough. I’m being honest with him, and he’s being honest with me in return. My dad and I have always had a relationship based on mutual respect. It’s what happens when you must face the world together for as long as we did before Susan and Dana appeared in our lives.

“Do you want coffee?” my dad asks, climbing from his stool.

I nod and follow him out into the studio. Susan is busy with a customer, discussing paintings. We walk to the small kitchen they’ve set up, and my dad puts on a pot of coffee. He leans his hip against the counter and folds his arms over his chest while we wait.

“Going public is a big deal,” my dad says. “You said it’s hard swimming against the stream. What happened?”

“It was a small problem with her job, actually. But I’m glad we’re waiting. I want to go public with her. I want her to know how serious I am, despite everyone’s reservations, but I don’t know exactly where we stand. Even though I know she won’t just ditch me, I feel like I’m jumping with my eyes closed, and I don’t know how deep the water is. If that makes sense.”

My dad nods. “I understand what you’re saying. Maybe you should wait until you know how you feel about her before you take such a big step. The pressures of going public is more than enough already even when you have a stable foundation.”

I shake my head. “I know how I feel about her. I’m not a hundred percent sure how she feels about me. I mean, we’ve mentioned that we’re happy to be together and that we both want to go public, but a part of me still has question marks about what she really thinks about it all.”

The coffee finishes brewing, and my dad pours us two mugs. The smell curls around me. My dad adds sugar and cream to both cups and hands me mine. I blow on it for a bit before I take a scalding sip.

“Believe it or not, that is both the easiest and the hardest part of a relationship,” my dad says. “Communication.” I notice the word “relationship” and I realize there is a lot that hasn’t been said yet. “You need to tell her how you feel. Put it into so many words, and label it. Be open with her and ask her to be open with you. You’ll never be able to avoid misunderstandings completely, but a good way to start is to talk.”

I nod, looking at my coffee. I understand what he’s saying. It makes sense. I need to talk to her if I want to know what’s going on and where we’re headed. The idea of talking to her is terrifying, though, and I realize what my dad is trying to say. If I can’t talk to her about how I feel and I can’t ask her how she feels, then I shouldn’t be thinking about going public, anyway.

I haven’t told her that I’m in love with her. That I love her, romantically.

I don’t know if I can, either. Our conversation about going public is a very sure sign that we’re more than just fuck buddies, but going all the way, talking about love and dating, seems like a mountain before me. I guess it’s always hard to put yourself out there and to risk getting hurt.

Because that’s what I’m scared of. Getting hurt.

And getting burned by Dana won’t be the same as getting burned by Liz all those years ago. I won’t be able to get away from Dana because she’s family, and I will see her every Christmas, New Years, and Thanksgiving for the rest of my life. If we part badly, it won’t only be our relationship that will be screwed, but our family life, too. And our mutual friendships.

Everything that we’ve shared until now, even if it wasn’t born from romance, will be fucked.

I take a deep breath and sip more of my coffee.

“Being in love is hard,” my dad says.

I glance at him and chuckle. “You and Susan have been happily married for how many years now?” I ask.

My dad shakes his head. “I know. We’re happy. But that doesn’t mean that we don’t have our difficulties. A relationship is never easy, no matter how right you are for each other. It makes it easier, of course, which is why you must be sure she’s the right person for you. But just because it’s hard, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I say.

“And just because it’s easy, doesn’t mean it’s right, either.”

I nod. It’s sage advice. And my dad is being strangely open-minded about it. I didn’t think it would be this painless to talk to him. I half expected a fight.

“Just do me a favor, okay?” my dad asks.

I look at him. He looks around the little kitchen, looking a little uncomfortable.

“Don’t kiss her in front of me or anything. Seriously.”

I laugh and nod. That is something I can agree to. After the conversation went as well as it did, it’s a small price to pay.

When I leave, I feel like a weight is lifted off my shoulders, and I can go back to the office with one less thing to stress about.