It was actually my contingency plan as a teenager in case someone ever broke in. True story. You can’t make this shit up.
I take my coffee and join my dad back in the living room. He’s watching the news, but the TV is on silent. Probably because it’s his third or fourth go of the same broadcast. I stare vacantly at the TV. Another few minutes of silence that isn’t strained or awkward goes by. It’s just silent. I’m used to that with Dad. He’s always been like this—quiet and thoughtful. Mom is boisterous and loud enough for us both.
“Cliff,” Dad starts. He trails off, but I know he’s going to restart. He always does. “You know that I—that this—I support your mother in her decisions. We both talked about this. I just—we’re worried about you, that’s all. We really do want you to be happy.”
I seem to have matured a little in the past forty-eight hours and after two technically failed dates, because I don’t respond with something biting or snarky like I did before. I don’t challenge him about how their definition of happiness differs from my own. I don’t accuse him of ruining my life or tell him that threatening to cut me off from the company is bullshit.
“Yeah.” I sip my coffee. My parents might have a cheap coffee maker, but my mom buys this fair trade coffee that is dark and delicious with notes of caramel. “I know.”
Dad’s head cranks around with an audible crunch of vertebrae and whatever else that didn’t get stretched out yet this morning. “You know?” It doesn’t make me look or feel very good when I hear the clear astonishment in his tone.
“Really.” I nod slowly. “I don’t know if this will work. I’m actually pretty sure it won’t, and not just because I’m apparently hopeless, but I get it.”
“Your mother thought you wouldn’t listen or take her seriously if she didn’t lay down the law.”
“I get that. I wouldn’t have. She’s only been telling me to settle down since I was eighteen.”
“I think she started after you were done with college, to be fair.”
“True. You’re right.”
“Anyway.” Dad sighs and takes a sip of coffee. “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”
“I think so.”
“She doesn’t expect you to just pick someone and get married. She just wanted to—uh—shake things up a little.”
“She definitely shook it.”
“She thinks you have a negative view about marriage that isn’t exactly, well… fair or right.”
“I know.”
“She wants to see you take responsibility for your own life.”
“I do have a job. I am good at it. I did go to college. It’s not like you guys just handed me a position at the company.” I hate that Rowan pretty much said the same thing to me. She assumed I was spoiled and called me entitled even though my parents have taken care never to treat me that way. I had to earn everything, just like everyone else.
“Yes. That’s not exactly what she meant.”
“I think she has this image that I enjoy not fulfilling her desire for grandchildren. Or that I’m always going out with guy friends and doing dumb things because I went to one—seriously, just one—stag in Vegas months ago. Just because I don’t date doesn’t mean I don’t believe in relationships or marriage. I just haven’t found someone I want to put in the time with. She knows that, doesn’t she?”
When Dad doesn’t respond, I bite down hard on my bottom lip. I take another sip of coffee and allow the sweeter notes to play over my tongue. Maybe she doesn’t know.
“She just saw you in this rut…” Dad trails off. He’s clearly embarrassed.
It makes me wonder how many conversations they’ve had about me and my ruts. And how many might have involved Amy’s name. Jesus. How pathetic do they actually think I am? How much truth is there in that patheticness? A few days ago, I would have denied it completely.
But now…
Now I want to go home and actually crack those self-help books. Now I want to take Rowan out on a real date just to prove to her that I’m not a total failure and can be something other than an asshole.
It’s a crazy thought.
I want to take Rowan out again. Like, seriously. A real date this time. And no, not just because I thought about kissing her. Not just because I want to kiss her. Not just because I couldn’t sleep last night due to the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I actually think she’s smart. She’s witty. I also feel like I owe her an apology because I said some stuff that was pretty out of line.
I already know I’m never going to ask her. There’s never going to be another fake date or a real one. I blew that chance, and not just by running out of gas. I should type her an email. I suck at trying to write romantic garbage, but I could at least apologize to her for the things I said. I crossed just about every line there was to cross, at least as far as being a total dick went.
“I guess I’ll head out,” I say after I finish off my coffee. “Thanks for the chat, Dad. Don’t worry. I’ll go on the rest of the dates. I actually tried on the first one. That’s all Mom
