Page 59 of Faking Forever 1
“You willneverbe a lowlife, Joshua. And you willalwaysbe 137
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special to me.”
I place my hand on her neck, caressing her cheek with my thumb. I couldn’t think of a better time to risk it. Leaning down, I connect our lips, resuming what we had started earlier.
The front door nearly rips off the hinges, revealing her dad in a complete rage.
“My eyes better be fucking deceiving me?! Have you lost your goddamned minds?!”
“Joey, who’s out there?!”
Retreating a few steps back, I juggle my hat, nearly falling backward. Paisley whips her head at her dad, holding two hands against his chest while he walks out onto the porch.
“Daddy, stop!” she screams.
“I wanna see your ass off of my porch—get the hell off!” he fumes, heading in my direction.
A chill ran down my spine. I gathered myself, hopping down all four stairs to the porch and booking it straight to mine without looking back. I could hear Paisley yelling at him and her mom chiming in to join the shouting fest. Goosebumps were startingto cover my arms and legs, taking over my whole body. By the time I reached my home, I shut and locked the door behind me. The lights were off, and my dad was nowhere inside.
Leaving me alone to listen to Paisley convince her dad to go inside their home.
* * *
“Hey, kid? Take this.”
My dad nudges my arm, holding a crisp, cold beer bottle.
“We don’t speak of this to your mother, you hear?”
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“When have I ever told her about our shenanigans?” I half smile, taking it from his hands. I bite onto the cap, gnawing it off before spitting it near my feet and taking a sip.Perfect.
I loved fishing trips, just Pop and me. We always made time for them, but after the divorce, it seems likeallhe has is time.
I don’t interfere because I try to be grateful. I complain about fishing with him one time, and the next thing you know, I’d be out a dad. I already had lost my relationship with my mother—
at least the closeness we once had—so I had learned to take things as they are a lot more these days.
It was humid and the lake was attracting all sorts of bugs above the water. Every time we fish, I get stuck, steadily watching each one. They dive onto the lake and quickly fly back into the sky, frightened by the sudden dampness. I’ve realized that I’ve beentreating my life the same way. Metaphorically, of course, but still. That’s how I feel about life. Though I wish I didn’t, I get scared when I get my feet wet. I also find it ironic since I treat everything as if it’s minuscule upon other issues.
Even though every issue feels like the end. It’s funny how your brain works that way.
If you had asked me years ago, I would’ve told you that if I had wanted Paisley, I could have her. Not because she’s easy or because I knew that indefinitely. I didn’t. I thought that way because I’ve always been sworn to manifestation and am confident that way. If you ask me the same question right now, having gotten somewhere with her, I feel like a dog with his tail between his legs. Pussy. I couldn’t tell her the truth about that first kiss, or the one on the boardwalk, or evenbothkisses after I won the bear—not even if you paid me. All of them rattled something inside me, but being scolded by her father was worse.
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Embarrassing to say the least.
My dad sits in the chair next to me, twisting his beer open as well. We sit on a dock, secluded in a wooded area near our house. Pop likes it cause it’s quiet, but I think it’s kind of eerie.
Nevertheless, we are making some pretty good catches so far this morning.
