Dominick
Ali squealed in excitement as soon as I knocked on the door, loudly enough that I could hear her from clear across the house. She was still upstairs, no doubt getting ready for her "date" with Jason Peterson. I smiled nervously, still not quite sure how to handle my daughter's first crush—especially not when she'd known the older boy for a lot longer than she'd known me.
Helena opened the door, reading glasses perched on her nose. She looked more beautiful with each passing day, and her growing belly made her practically glow with serenity and contentment…most of the time, anyway.
The rest of the time it still made her glow, but in a different way. Specifically, the glowing red face that accompanied a long bout of unexpected second-trimester morning sickness.
I did not envy her having to go through that, not one bit.
"Hello Sweetie," I said, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and giving her a kiss.
Helena gave me a huge smile, leaning forward and making contented murmuring noises as she rested her head against my chest. I could've stayed like that forever, but alas it didn't last long. Within moments a melodic do-doo-dooo sound echoed from the back of the house, loud enough to wake a hibernating bear.
We both sighed.
"That would be my meeting," Helena explained with an apologetic shrug. "I need to run, but have a good day with the kids. We're still on for tomorrow, right?"
"Of course," I said, giving Helena a quick kiss goodbye before she ran back into her office. Before closing the door behind her, Helena shouted up to Ali a reminder to be on her best behavior today.
Ali didn't answer, which I chalked up to her being too busy or too excited with getting ready for the day. I only began to seriously second-guess myself when she came rushing out of her room a few seconds later, showing off some seriously questionable wardrobe decisions.
The leather, at least, was my fault. I'd bought it for her as a practical matter, the thick padded hide giving both warmth and some protection whenever she rode the bike with me. It was the safe and sensible thing to do, and something I'd never questioned until now. Ali was, after all, just a kid who depended on me.
But she was also just a kid, and the low-cut tank top she'd chosen to wear beneath the leather jacket was completely inappropriate, as were the pumps she'd chosen. The heels were at least three inches, and I sincerely doubted that Helena had been the one to buy them.
"Hey Dom," she said, giving me a hug that brought her in close enough to showcase the mature-smelling perfume. Looking straight down at her, I noticed for the first time that her hair was different as well, done up in tight curls.
"Ali…" I began uncertainly, wishing that Helena was still here.
Of course, the fact that Ali only came down after her mom's meeting had begun was almost certainly not coincidence.
"Yes?" she asked innocently.
"I can see you've clearly put a lot of effort into how you look," I said carefully. Then, before I could second-guess my fathering abilities any further, I continued. "But you're not going out like that."
Ali's smile twisted into an O of outrage.
"Yes I am!" she shot back.
"You're eleven."
"You think I don't know that?" she asked.
"Judging by your outfit, it sure seems like you forgot," I said. "The makeup, the heels, the uh…the rest. Absolutely not."
"You can't make me change!"
"Ali…" I began again, fighting the urge to go frantically pound on Helena's office door. I'd never had to deal with this side of Ali before, or this side of any kid before. A tantruming preteen girl was still way above my pay grade.
"I don't have to listen to you, you're not my dad!" Ali said furiously, and I was surprised by just how much the words stung.
"As a matter of fact, yes I am," I said quickly, almost by reflex. Without meaning to, Ali had given me exactly what I needed to handle this situation. I was her father, and for that matter, Helena had trusted me enough to put me in charge of Ali for the day. I didn't need her to rescue me, because nothing was going to happen unless I signed off on it.
"Well, I don't care," Ali said, stomping her foot for emphasis. Her face was turning a splotchy red, but I just shook my head.
"Then we're not going anywhere," I said, crossing my arms. "I can just take Jason by myself."
If looks from a tween could kill, I would've been dead.
Along with half the neighborhood, for that matter.
"You wouldn't," Ali said finally.
"Try me," I said, cringing at how cliché I sounded.
Ali continued staring me down, long enough that the doubts started to creep back in. I really had no idea what I was doing, here, and using my own childhood as a reference point would've been a disaster. On the other hand, acting like an old fuddy-duddy dad from an 80s sitcom wasn't going to do me any favors either, particularly not if I insisted on freaking out about something as minor as the fact she changed her hairstyle.
"Tell you what, most of the outfit can stay. I was surprised, and I probably overreacted. But those heels are not safe to wear on a motorcycle, and I want you wearing something under that jacket that won't get you arrested. Or me, for that matter."
"Fine," Ali grumbled eventually, spinning around and running up the stairs without a single glance back in my direction. I winced, simultaneously worrying that I'd been too harsh while also worrying that I hadn't been nearly harsh enough.
I didn't have to wait long, and Ali soon came back downstairs while shooting daggers at me with her eyes.
At least she was wearing a more modest top.
"Those aren't your riding boots," I said, crossing my arms again.
Ali shrugged. "You said no heels, you didn't say anything about my sneakers."
"You knew what I meant."
"You mean you want me to wear boots on the beach? I'll look like a total freak! Everyone will see! Jason will see!" Ali said, her voice unsteady and her face panicking.
"How did you expect to walk through sand wearing heels?" I asked, but Ali just looked at me like I was an alien.
I sighed and rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache threaten to come on. I had to pick my battles, and she'd already fixed the worst of her outfit. More fighting would only take the day from bad to worse, and we'd already gotten off to an awful start. I still hoped the trip could be salvaged once we got going—the weather was gorgeous, and Ali would probably chill out once her crush showed up.
Unless she felt like I was forcing her to humiliate herself in front of him, anyway…
"Fine," I said at last. "You can wear the sneakers. But you owe me, got it? Everything else I say today goes without any argument. Everything. Do we have a deal?"
"Yesyesyesyesyes!" Ali exclaimed, giving me quick halfhearted hug before bolting out the door. Still reeling from emotional whiplash, I turned around and saw that Jason had arrived.
Right.
Once we made it to the beach, everything would be fine.
I hoped.