Chapter Thirty-seven
“Did he really say that?” Josh asked as we slid into a booth at a nearby diner. “That you weren’t permitted to contact Riley?”
“That’s right,” I replied. “You’d think, after losing Leah, he might want to reconcile with the son he also lost. Like a second chance. It boggles my mind that he doesn’t see it that way.”
“From what I recall,” Josh said, “he was always pretty hard on Riley.”
The waitress arrived, placed two plastic-covered menus in front of us and poured us some water. She took our drink orders and left us alone for a few minutes.
“What are you going to do?” Josh asked. “Will you still try and get in touch with him?”
“Of course,” I replied, “and I told my father that. I think he was shocked because it was the first time I ever talked back to him. Then he threatened me with the old cliché: ‘Not while you’re living under my roof.’ I’m not sure how serious he was about that.”
I continued to read over the menu.
“Are you worried?” Josh asked.
“Strangely, no,” I replied. “Though I probably should be because he’s been paying my tuition and letting me live at home rent free for the past couple of years.” I read over the soup and salad choices. “At the same time, I’m twenty-five years old. Maybe I should just move out and get my own bank loan. Then at least I wouldn’t feel like I was wearing a yoke around my neck.”
“It’s always an option,” Josh agreed. “I’m sure a bank would give you a loan, considering your future career prospects.”
With a resigned sigh, I set the menu down on the table. “I really don’t want to go home and face more arguments, so thanks for having dinner with me.”
“No problem,” he replied. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Believe me, I am. Actually, I feel an incredible sense of release—like I was a pressure cooker for the past ten years and someone just lifted the lid.”
“I hope it wasn’t me,” he casually mentioned, “because your father always considered me a delinquent. He probably thinks it was me who encouraged you to rebel.”
“It doesn’t matter. But that’s exactly what it was, you know,” I replied indulgently. “A beautiful rebellion. I had this overwhelming, burning urge to defy him. I couldn’t stop myself. After years of biting my tongue, I had to let it all out. Now I understand how Riley must have felt and why he constantly rebelled.”
“While you girls always toed the line.”
“Mmm.” I sipped my water and thought about that. “I hate to think we were just submissive. I don’t think that’s what it was.”
“What do you think it was, then?”
I shrugged. “Maybe we instinctively knew it was wiser to follow the rules in order to keep the peace, while Riley was the type who liked to poke at a hornet’s nest just to see what would happen.” I reached for my water and sipped it. “When it comes to personality types, my father is definitely a hornet’s nest.”
“How so?”
“Probably because of how he was raised. It might surprise you to know that he came from very humble beginnings. I saw a picture of his house once. It was nothing but a shack somewhere out in the boonies of Kentucky. He had eight brothers and sisters and his father was a drunk who beat everyone to within an inch of their lives if they misbehaved, or for no reason at all, I was told. He would come home from the bar, look around at everyone, and just lose it. Mom said that Dad was quite a scrapper with his brothers when he was younger, but when he told her about all that, he promised never to be an abusive husband. I guess he felt that promise didn’t apply to his son.”
“I didn’t know about that,” Josh said. “Have you ever met your father’s parents?”
“No, and they’re both long gone now. He doesn’t even keep in touch with his brothers or sisters. I think they’re all still back there. He was the only one who got out and forged a different kind of life. He keeps it pretty quiet, though. Considers it a major skeleton in our closet. That and Riley. When he meets people, he just says he has two daughters.”
The waitress returned with our sodas and took our food orders. We each chose the same thing: a burger and fries, extra ketchup, no onions.
After the waitress left, we leaned forward over the table. “It’s weird,” I said. “Even though you and I barely know each other, I feel like you understand the situation better than anyone.”
“I don’t know about that,” Josh replied, unpretentiously. “But I’m glad you texted me because you were the only thing I could think about today. You and this very strange situation.”
I was half tempted to reach across the table and touch his hand—he had such strong, manly hands—but I resisted.
“It is strange,” I agreed. “I had a hard time concentrating, too. I’m worried about that exam tomorrow.”
“Sorry. Guess I am a bad influence after all.”
“No.” I shook my head.
“Is there any way I can help?” he asked. “You could study at my place if you don’t want to go home. I could quiz you or something. At the very least I could bring you coffee.”
“That would be helpful, actually,” I replied.
“Which part? The quizzing or the coffee?”
“Both. It’s an oral exam where we’re put in a situation with a fake patient who presents symptoms and we have to diagnose. You could be the patient. And bring me coffee, too.”
He inclined his head curiously. “Are you saying we’ll be playing doctor this evening?”
“That’s exactly what we’ll be doing.” I couldn’t help but laugh.
Josh sat back and held his hands up in surrender. “Then I’m definitely your guy.”