Page 5 of Friend Me

My college friends had thought I was strange for wanting to live at home, but Dad was the only family I had. I needed him. Now he needed me, too.

“How was school today?” he asked, settling into his creaky chair.

“Work, Dad. Work was fine. Cooper lost another admin, so I had to find him a new one for tomorrow.”

“Another one? He must be hard on them.”

“He is. He has high expectations.” The fact that Cooper ran through temps faster than the Oakland A’s ran through baseballs was a key part of my plan to win him. When my boss left for his honeymoon, it’d be just the two of us. I’d woo Cooper over cozy lunches.

“You give him unrealistic expectations. Those temps will never measure up to you.” I had only a second to preen at his praise before he shot me with, “You could be doing so much more with your computer science degree.”

My insides shriveled. I loved living with Dad, but this, right here, I could’ve done without. Most twenty-five-year-olds at least had the distance of a phone call; I had to look into my dad’s eyes while he berated me about my underachievement.

“It’s a steady salary, and I get my pick of special projects when I have time.”

“But you never have time, do you?” Dad’s no-BS teacher stare speared me.

“Jackson keeps me busy.” I didn’t add that rushing home to ensure Dad hadn’t burned down the house or fallen—again—left me no time for special projects.

“When’s he getting married?”

I blinked at the abrupt change in subject. “Next weekend.”

“You taking anyone?”

I couldn’t hide the fiery blush that spread from my cheeks to my forehead. “I don’t know.” For the ten-thousandth time, I wished my mother were still around to talk to about this stuff. Or to be a buffer between Dad and me. He tried, but—

“You should. Weddings are magical.” Memory sparked in his eyes. “Ours was.”

As many times as I’d heard the story, I didn’t stop him. I loved it every time.

“We didn’t have any money, but I knew it had to be special for my Maggie. So I borrowed plants from a landscaper friend—pots of roses in every color—and filled up Santos’s back yard. Whenever I smell roses, it reminds me of our wedding. Is Alicia going to have roses?”

“No. Hydrangeas.”

“No scent at all.” He shook his head, but then, instead of scooping up more chili, he set down his spoon. “You’ll find your magic at the wedding.”

I’d hoped to, but with the Jamila development, my bravery had fizzled out. “Did she—were you scared she didn’t feel the same way you did, at first?”

He chuckled. “Of course. I was the hired help. Every day while I was building that pool house, she came out in her swimsuit. Sometimes alone with a book and her headphones. Sometimes with a friend or even a fella. I lost a thumbnail to a belt sander while I watched her swim with another guy.” He smiled at the vision only he could see. “She was so beautiful. She looked just like you do now.” He stared at the photo of my mother on the wall over what should’ve been her seat at the table.

He was mostly right. We shared the same thick, dark-honey hair—though mine wasn’t teased up in a ’90s do—and brown eyes. While her chin was rounded, I’d inherited Dad’s square jaw and big grin. In the hollow of her neck rested a starburst-shaped pendant formed of tiny diamond chips. I stroked it where it lay now at the base of my throat.

“How did you know she was the one? And how did she know you were the one?”

He leaned back in his chair. “One day, we finished up early. I hung around, cleaning up, after the other guys left. I walked past the pool on the way out, and she asked me to hand her a towel. I was sweaty, covered in sawdust, but when I touched her hand, I knew. I knew I wanted to hold her hand for the rest of our lives.” He smiled, but he didn’t look at me. Instead, he looked back at her picture.

Why hadn’t we talked about this before? The story was perfectly swoony. “And did she—was that when she knew?”

His sad smile turned into a smirk. “She told me she knew the first time I took off my shirt.”

“Dad!”

“I think so. She finally saw that what she wanted wasn’t those society boys with their floppy hair and their popped collars. It was me. Even though I was a little rough around the edges, I loved her like those other guys couldn’t. A few days later, she handed me a beer at the end of the day, and we talked. And I finally worked up the guts to ask her out.” He stared at his bowl, lost in the memories of a marriage that’d been cut too short.

When I looked away from his downcast face, the glint of metal caught my peripheral vision.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, “how about we take the telescope out tonight? The sky looks clear.”

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