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MY PARENTS HAD A MODEST house in one of the nicer suburbs—the kind of place where folks shop at Target instead of Walmart and everybody took the Pandemic seriously. My dad was from Texas, though, and Mom was from Florida, so neither of them was a real stickler.
That meant there was nothing to stop me coming to visit. I’d used quarantine as an excuse for a while, but they didn’t care. I still felt awkward suddenly showing up, though. I had lectured them about taking the virus more seriously last time we talked. When was that?
The door opened while I was still standing there wrestling with myself. My dad looked me up and down, unsurprised, and said, “You know they have doorbells with built-in cameras these days? And motion sensors?”
“I... yeah.”
“You know you’ve been standing out here fidgeting for eight minutes without touching the door?”
I hung my head. “Yeah.”
“Get in here. Your mom is making a plate of s’mores.”
That was that. He didn’t demand an explanation. He was too good a man for that. It only made me feel worse.
Mom pushed a plate of microwaved s’mores on me as soon as I stepped in the living room. Dad went back to his comfy chair and picked up his book, but he didn’t resume reading until I popped a cracker into my mouth.
Before he lost himself in the pages, he said almost absently, “Hug your mom. She misses you.”
“Aw, mom!” I said. But it came out gooey from all the marshmallow.
She smiled anyway and stepped close for a side hug. “You okay?” She asked it almost under her breath, and it reminded me somehow of the girl outside Hauser’s office when she’d asked me for help.
“I’m good,” I said. “I need a place to stay for a week, though.”
“Your room’s still made up,” she said.” I’m making mac and cheese for dinner. That okay?”
“That’s wonderful, Mom. I love you, Mom.”
She beamed at me. “I’m glad you’re here. I can’t wait to hear what you’ve been up to.”
I saw Dad’s eyebrow raise at that, too, but he never took his eyes off his book. He didn’t say a word.
“There’s not a lot,” I said, “but I’ll fill you in at dinner. Mind if I get cleaned up, first?”
“I was hoping you would.” She smiled to make a joke of it, and Dad chuckled.
“You’re a little ripe.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I just calls ‘em like I sees ‘em.”
“I’ll be out in a bit.”
My room was still exactly as I’d left it when I went to college. I closed the door and flopped on my bed. The springs screamed a little, but I barely noticed. I was fighting dread over the dinner conversation.
My dad wasn’t a bad dad. I wasn’t ever under that impression. But he could be so hard to talk to. He expected me to see things his way and live life the way he would.
And I wasn’t living life the way he would. He knew it. I knew it. And I wasn’t really ashamed. But he wouldn’t see things the way I did. He wouldn’t even try.
I sighed. None of this was new. I’d been putting this off as long as I could. It was my only choice now. I’d keep to my room, work on my game, and pray for a message from Mr. Hauser. And I’d put off conversations about my work status as much as possible.
I turned on a warm shower and washed away three hard days of trouble.