Page 7 of Dad's Best Friend Scientist
I nod. “Yeah.”
He frowns again but doesn’t speak.
“Actually, I want to speak to you about your mom,” I say quickly, eager to get to the topic. “I’m sure she’s told you about me helping her to communicate with your dad?”
His frown turns into a scowl. “She has. And you know what? I was going to tell you to stop the nonsense.”
“It’s not nonsense,” I say with a trembling voice. Oh God. He’s mad. “And it helps her to get over Ed’s passing.”
He pauses. “But that’s not the right way to do it. You shouldn’t deceive her. Facing the truth is the only way to get over it.”
Shit. Now what? How am I going to bring up the subject of the retirement home? And what’s the use of it? He would probably think it was a good idea because it would help his mom to get over his dad.
I rack my brain to come up with a way to convince him, but Linda’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “David and Zena,” She calls out from the house. “Dinner is ready!”
I’ve agreed to stay for dinner because my parents and my brother are visiting a friend’s house in a neighboring town and won’t be home until later tonight.
“Okay, Linda. I’ll be right there,” I say and leave David quickly.
Chapter 8
Zena
Mrs. Davison makes amazing roast chicken with the rosemary from her garden.
“Have more, honey.” She keeps urging me to eat.
“Thanks. But I’ve had enough,” I say.
She frowns. “What do you mean? You’ve barely eaten anything.”
“I’m actually on a diet,” I say in a small voice. The truth is I can hardly taste the food with David sitting across the table from me. His intense eyes track me like light beams during the dinner as if I still hadn’t put on my shirt. My panties are probably soaked, too, and I need to get out of my seat before leaving a puddle on the chair.
“Why?” Linda’s eyes widen.
I chuckle. “Because I’m a little fat,” I say, patting my belly. It isn’t bulging, but not flat either.
“No, you’re not. You look perfect, Zena. What you have are curves and men like them. Right, David?”
I blush, recalling the way David looked at me earlier.
David’s cheeks also turn pink and he clears his throat before he speaks. “I don’t know, Mother. I can’t speak for all men since everyone is different.”
“What doyoulike?” his mother scoffs. “You’re forty years old, son. It’s time you pay attention to women, not robots. I would like to be a grandma before I see your dad.”
David shifts in his seat, looking embarrassed. “Mother, please. We’ve talked about this.”
Mrs. Davison becomes so upset she has tears in her eyes. “Your dad was proud of you being a scientist, but son, life isn’t just work. You’ve made enough money and had enough success at work. You need a family. Look at your best friend John. Why can’t you be more like him?”
I feel sorry, and I pat her arm. “Linda, my mom would disagree with you. She always says she wishes my dad would be more successful like David.”
My Dad is a mechanic and owns a car shop in town. I think he’s successful, too, but my mom thinks his business isn’t secure enough and always worries it’ll close down. She also blames it for his long work hours and lack of vacations.
After dinner, I help Linda clear the table and do the dishes, keeping David out of the kitchen.
At about eight, I say goodbye to Linda and David, and they see me to the front door.
“Let me walk you home,” David says suddenly.
