Switch

moments we'd ever shared, this had to rank right up there

with the top ten. Worse even than the year he'd noticed I'd

started wearing a bra and announced it at one of Stela's

parties.

Knowing he wanted me to say it didn't matter only made it

harder for me to answer. I stared into my soup for a long,

hard minute and felt his gaze weighting me. I wanted to

make it al right for my dad because it would be easier then

to pretend it was al right for me. But in the end I said

nothing, silence more of an answer than words could ever

have been.

'Could you come by?' he said after another half minute

ticked by. 'Jeremy has always liked you, Paige. He looks

up to you like a—'

'Sister?' I looked up at him, then, and took pity on the

man who was responsible for one-half of me.

'You are his sister. We've never tried to make you feel like anything less.'

He wasn't going to apologize more, I could see that. I was

pretty sure he hadn't realy meant the first one. On the

surface, sure, but not down deep. No where it mattered.

'I can come over. Sure. I'm not certain what you think I

can do with him, though.'

My dad's look of relief was genuine, anyway. 'Just talk to

him. I asked Steven if he'd come, but he's busy with the

kids. I knew we could count on you.'

That, at least, was flattering and believable. 'Sure.

Thanks.'

'Great.' Just like that, things were okay again.

My dad slurped up his soup, then dug into his salad as he

talked the rest of the meal about the trips they were

planning for the summer. Again to the beach house he'd

bought a few years back, and also to the Grand Canyon

for a river-rafting trip. He invited me to come to the beach

house if I could make it, and I said I'd try.

'Good,' my dad said like that settled everything that had

ever been strained between us.

In a way it had. I'd been honest with him, in some smal

In a way it had. I'd been honest with him, in some smal

way, which I'd never been before. We said our goodbyes

and this time the hug didn't feel so strained. He patted my

head, then puled me closer for a second hug.

'You look so much like your mom,' my dad said, which

was untrue. 'How is she, anyway?'

'Fine. Good.' He never asked about her, but I wasn't

going to act as if it was a big deal.

'Good.' My dad hesitated. 'Tel her…I said hi, and I hope she's doing al right.'

'Sure, Dad. I wil.'

He looked at my car. 'You get a new car?'

My car, a silver-gray Volvo, had seen me through three

moves, multiple winters and road trips to the beach and