Page 162 of From Now On

“Hmmm.” She keeps scanning the menu. “Maybe I’ll get a pizza.”

The waitress returns a few minutes later and we place our orders.

“So, remind me what the schedule is for tomorrow,” my mom says. “I should be at the stadium at nine?”

“The ceremony doesn’t start until ten thirty, but we can’t reserve seats. I’d try to get there at nine just in case, yeah, but if you’re running late, it should be fine.”

“Nine it is. And we’re getting lunch with Hunter and his parents afterward?”

“As long as that’s okay?”

Hunter’s mom suggested it. I’ve never met his parents, but based on the way Hunter talks about them, I’m sure they’re lovely.

“Of course,” my mom says. “I’d like to meet them. And Hunter, of course.” She plucks a piece of bread out of the basket. “Is there anything I should know about the ceremony?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve never gone to a college graduation before, so…”

“I haven’t either, Mom. I’m pretty sure you just have to sit and try to stay awake during all the different speakers.”

“Okay. I’ll stop for coffee on the way.”

I laugh. “Sounds good.”

My phone lights up with a text from Harlow asking if I have extra boxes in my room. I replyyes, and then notice the time.

It’s exactly eight p.m.

I stand, accidentally knocking my napkin off the table. I pick it up before grabbing my phone off the table. “I’ll be right back, Mom. I just need to make a quick phone call.”

I catch a glimpse of her puzzled expression before I walk outside.

I’ve been putting this off, telling myself it didn’t matter. But I want to enjoy tomorrow, not sit and listen to inspirational speeches and regret not telling my dad why him showing up would’ve mattered.

If he had a good reason for not coming, it would be one thing. If his kid was sick or there was an emergency at work or some other urgent situation had come up, I would have understood.

But hechosenot to come.

And you can’tmakesomeone care, the same way you can’t stop caring yourself.

My father answers on the third ring. “Eve. This is a surprise.”

“Because it’s not a Tuesday?”

He hesitates before replying. “Because you stopped answering my calls.”

“Yeah, I did. Any idea why?”

A longer pause, as the hostility in my voice registers. It’s not a tone I’ve used with my dad before. I’m always agreeable and accommodating, trying to be the smallest burden possible.

“Life doesn’t work out the way we always want it to, Eve. I have responsibilities. A job and?—”

I scoff. “Mom has a job, and she showed up. She’salwaysshown up.”

“Your mother has a much more flexible work schedule than I do.”

My father hasn’t grown up. He may have gotten older. He may have had more kids. But, at his core, he’s still the same self-centered seventeen-year-old who left my mom on her own.

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