Page 155 of Steps

Varen sinks back in the chair. “I’m sorry, Dad.But Toya and I aren’t breaking up, so it’d mean a lot if you tried.”

Daniel crumples his face, age lines more visible.“But surely you must know this won’t last. Feelings change, especially withteens.”

“Please don’t say that,” I sputter, offended. “Youdon’t understand. But we’re both certain that it will last.”

Varen touches my hand on the table. “That’s right.My feelings will never change. I’ll always love her.”

Daniel squeezes his forehead and murmurs, “Jesus.You’re both so young though.”

“You and Mom were young,” Varen reminds him.

“We were twenty; it’s a little different.”

I throw in, “It doesn’t matter the age. Whatmatters is we want to be together, and it’d be great to have our family’ssupport. But if you can’t then…” I frown and look down at the piece of bread onmy plate.

“I’ll try,” Daniel says after a beat. “As forLisa…” He doesn’t need to finish.

“Maybe time will change her mind,” Varen says,hopeful.

Looking up, I see that Daniel has managed ahalf-smile. “Maybe.”

We eat dinner and go for a brief stroll along thesidewalk, returning to where the cars are parked minutes later.

“Let’s try this again soon,” Daniel says afteropening his door.

I look at Varen. He nods. “Sure. See you.”

After waving, we go our separate ways. This is asignificant step forward. Perhaps Mom will warm up to us in time as well.

38

The following weeks feel like total bliss. Varenand I continue to build our relationship as time goes by, talking at nightsuntil falling asleep and doing fun things on the weekends.

We still manage to have individual lives withschool, work, and friends. And we’re both okay with that. Everything feelsstable and healthy.

When Halloween comes around, we skip out onparties and watch horror movies at home.

The week of Thanksgiving, I notice Varen is almostfinished reading my diary. Whenever he’d complete entries before, it’d leavesuch an impact on him he’d go even harder at making me happy. But somethingfeels different now, I just can’t pinpoint it.

Varen leaves work early that Wednesday and picksme up from school. The drive to the apartment is mostly quiet. He appears to bein constant deep thought.

“It’s our first Thanksgiving together,” I say whenhe nears the exit. “Should we get something at the store and make it special?”

He glances at me briefly. “If you want.”

I scoff. “What doyouwant? You’ve been soquiet recently.” I look down at my lap and fidget with my jacket. “Is itsomething in my diary? Okay, if it’s about that time when I had a slight crushon my mom’s Puerto Rican boyfriend, I was fourteen and—”

“I’m not upset about that,” he says, laughingshort. “Nothing’s wrong, okay?” He reaches for my hand, giving it a tendersqueeze. “Just been working hard. Guess I’m exhausted.”

“K.” Looking at his face, I detect there’ssomething else. But I let it go.

We stop at the grocery store before going home.While unpacking the items, Varen’s cellphone rings.

“Hey, Dad.” He wrinkles his forehead as helistens. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

I close the fridge door, curious.

“All right. See you tomorrow.”

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