Page 51 of Dumbstruck
“Three summers,” Dad says, pretty much monologuing now, which is strange because he’s not a talker. “Three summers we wasted by pretendin’ we didn’t want it all. To experience everything together. And when we finally got it into our thick heads that we could have been enjoyin’ married life together and makin’ a family—”
“This is starting to sound like the sex talk.”
“All I’m sayin’,” Dad growls out, “is you can’t waste time just because you aren’t sure if this girl—”
“I’m sure.” I switch my phone to the other hand, as if that might make those words less terrifying. But they’ve settled deep inside me, filling an empty space I didn’t know was there until I met June. “I don’t know how or why, but I think June and I were meant to be.”
“Oh.”
That’s all he has to say? Pushing off the trailer, I start pacing as I talk. “All of that stuff about Mom, which I did not need to hear, by the way, and all you’ve got for me is ‘oh’? I’m talking crazy right now.”
“I don’t think it’s crazy.”
“Yeah, well, you went skinny-dipping with your casual lady friend when you were in your twenties, so how much can we really trust your judgment?”
That gets a chuckle out of him, which helps me relax. A little. “John, you have never been afraid to be yourself, have you? I’ve always loved that about you.”
I’m glad he thinks so, but can June learn to love it? “Dad,” I say, slowing my steps, “I’m so afraid I’m going to scare her off. We barely know each other, and I’m heading back home in a couple of weeks.”
“Did you know, they’ve invented these cool little devices called phones?”
“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, Pops,” I grumble. “June isn’t… She’s independent. It’s not like she’ll be missing my company while I’m states away.”
“Independence doesn’t necessarily mean she can’t get lonely.”
Maybe not, but June seems pretty content as she is. I’m the one who intruded on her life and brought chaos. “I’m lucky she agreed to a date in the first place.”
“Even better. You’ll never have to wonder if she’s interested.”
That’s…a good point. I stop pacing as I think about that. June isn’t the type of person to get into a relationship just because she can. After all the nonsense she went through with her ex, she will only go for something she wants.
I swallow. “And what if she breaks my heart?”
“Then at least you know it works.” Dad heaves a sigh. “Look, anyone who tells you love is easy hasn’t truly been in love. It takes hard work and dedication, the same as anything else good in life. And what is it they say about lovin’ and losin’? You can’t go through life shieldin’ yourself from all the bad things; you’ll never know the sweetness of the good if you never taste the bitter.”
As I let his advice sink in, I imagine what my life would be like going forward if I hadn’t met June. I would have kept pushing forward in my career, constantly anticipating a brutal end that might never come. But even if it does—even if I stop getting cast in movies and have to take a different path—how much joy have I missed out on in the meantime by focusing on my next job instead of living in the moment?
“That’s actually great advice,” I mutter, though I shouldn’t be surprised. Dad has always been the smartest man I know. “Though, I’m a little disappointed there wasn’t a potato metaphor in there.”
“The tough parts of life,” he says with a chuckle, “are the boilin’ water that softens you to perfection.”
Oh, potatoes sound so good right now. “What are the chances Mom can send some of her mashed potatoes to Colorado? I think June would like them.” And maybe I’m asking because hearing my dad’s voice is making me miss home.
It was only a few weeks ago that I was there, but it feels like too long. I didn’t even make it back for Christmas last year. Dad wasn’t kidding when he said I don’t go home as much as I used to.
“I have a better idea,” Dad says. “Bring your June home with you. Your mother will want to see the woman who finally cracked open that heart of yours. Maybe June is the one, maybe she’s not, but figurin’ that out is the fun part. And so is skinny—”
“Please never talk about that again.” Pressing a hand to my chest, I glance at the trailer behind me and smile. “Thanks for calling, Dad. I should go, but I’ll keep you updated on the June situation. Good or bad. And tell Mom about her.”
He chuckles. “You know I will. Good luck, John.”
“Thanks.”
“Does she know your name is John and not Jonah?”
My smile shifts to a grin. “Not yet.”
“Maybe tell her sooner or later. She might change her mind if she finds out your name is John S—”
