Page 79 of Swiped By My Dad's Best Friend
“Did that work for you?”
Dad didn’t answer. I glanced up to find him frowning down at his hands. “It was the best I could do. It didn’t fix me, but it kept me going.”
I nodded. “But Mom’s not the reason I didn’t want to go to school. It’s never felt right. I like working with my hands, building things…”
“That’s why you went into engineering.”
“No, Dad. I don’t want to engineer the projects. I just want to be the guy hammering nails, you know? Sitting in a classroom is not for me. I like being outside, like Trace. I like working with my hands, transforming an old house into something safe and reliable.”
“Like Trace,” Dad muttered.
“He’s not the reason I feel that way. I always have. You remember all the models I built when I was a kid.”
Dad looked lost. “I just always thought…”
“I know you wanted more for me. I’m sorry.” I sighed. “I didn’t really understand my apathy myself, not until I got involved with doing House Pledge. I found myself loving it. I even loved it enough to work on my grades so we could compete in a philanthropy competition on Greek row. That’s why my work improved. Not because I finally found the right major or enjoyed my classes. I needed an incentive. Something more than a GPA.”
“I still don’t see what any of this has to do with Trace.”
“I was struggling with my grades. He helped me study, helped me figure out a plan for turning things around. Because of him, I’ve mostly climbed out of the hole. My philosophy grade is still too low, but… I never would have gotten this close without him.”
“You could have asked me for help.”
I shook my head. “No, Dad. I couldn’t.”
“I would have helped you,” he insisted. “Gotten you a tutor.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s not it.”
“Then why?”
“I had to want it for myself,” I said quietly. “You never understood me, and I closed down about this stuff. It’s not really your fault. But when I needed help…”
“You went to him.”
I nodded. “Yeah, because he’s always been supportive. He loves me.”
“I love you. I’m supportive,” Dad argued, sounding hurt.
“I don’t know how to explain it to you,” I admitted. “Trace helps me because it’s what I want. But you…you push me, because it’s what you want.”
Dad looked as if he wanted to argue. Instead, he looked down at the stack of assignments. “You shouldn’t try to tackle all that at once. Pace yourself, or you’ll do more harm than good.”
“I will.”
He stood up. “I better get back to the office.”
I knew my words had hurt him, but it felt good to be honest at last. I’d spent so much time trying to appease my father that I’d lost sight of myself for a while.
Then Trace came along and reminded me to believe in myself, to love myself for who I was. Not for who my father wanted me to be.
I guess, when it came right down to it, I wasn’t my father’s child anymore.
I was my own man, a man who was in love with Trace.
“Where’s my phone?” I asked Dad one more time as he opened the front door. He hesitated, and I added, “Tell me, or I’m going to tear apart the place to find it, even if I have to get my frat brothers over here to do it for me.”
He swore under his breath. “You’re so stubborn. You need rest, and all you can think about is thatman.”
