Page 9 of One Little Problem
“Does any of this matter?” he asked tiredly.
“I don’t think you understand how fishing works.” How could he get women like that? Did I want him to get women? I had no idea.
“Ryan,” Dad said. “I’ve met someone I really like.” Oh, there was just one woman. One fish. One fish-woman… hopefully not that last one. “And I want to give you time to process, tell me any thoughts or concerns, give you some time to… be you.”
“If by that you mean totally cool and adaptive to change—"
Now he was back to looking in charge, to the guy who didn’t sugarcoat things. “We both know that’s not what I mean.” He stared me down, like he was ready if I protested to bring out all the receipts and a PowerPoint detailing how loco I could get.
Right. He meant overreactive, freak, spaz out. But nope, nah, no way dawg. Um. I wasn’t doing any of that.
Dad’s done this before. It was nothing new. He carried on a flirtation with the mail lady. There were ladies at the dinner who gave him a free piece of pie. It had been a while since Mom died anyway. It was no big deal. And there was nothing to talk about. Sure, he’d never set me down and tried to prepare me for, like, meeting her or something. It had never got that far.
This was how life worked. Start to get comfortable with the way things are, start to appreciate what you have, start to enjoy life, and then it changed. The good things never lasted.
Not to pull the dead Mom card, but okay, my mom was dead, so I definitely got to pull that card every once and a while right, that was literally the only thing close to resembling a perk that came from having a dead Mom, the pulling of that card. Happiness was fleeting sometimes. Everything going right, life moving as you wanted and then bam, the most important person in your world gets sick and everything changes.
Wow, when did this get heavy? Okay, Dad dating was… something. Maybe this would normally be the kind of thing that would freak me out and cause me to go all me. It was a good thing I had other things to worry about. My mind was happy to worry about me and Luke and our disapproving parents instead.
* * *
My homeroom teacher and I used to be involved in an epic battle of wills, which actually sounded pretty cool, even though it was about the lamest topic ever, being on time. I might have had a problem with what other people referred to as punctuality. I fancied myself a free spirit, one not encumbered by such trivial concepts like start times and, I don’t know, whatever else went with punctuality. Not wearing white after Labor Day? I’m not sure I owned a lot of white clothing but maybe I should get some, just so I could wear the items after Labor Day.
Making even a tiny effort to be on time had actually helped matters a lot and now my homeroom teacher and I were almost like friends. Crazy. He said he’d give me 20 bucks if I made it in on time everyday this month. I wondered if there were any moral or ethical guidelines he’d be violating by bribing a student, but he said that wasn’t anything we had to worry about. How dare he not believe in me? Weren’t educators supposed to believe in me?
I was gonna show him. Granted, I would be giving him exactly what he wanted, causing him less hassle and being where I was supposed to be at the scheduled time, but still, this was totally showing him. So, I saw Lydia and Luke arrive at school. And I had time to spare, so of course I went over to say hi. Which I would have done even if I didn’t have time to spare, but we don’t have to mention that part.
“One day, you two are going to show up wearing matching outfits,” I told them. That would be weird mostly because Luke wasn’t allergic to colors and Lydia was, so seeing him in all dark clothes or her in actual hues on the ROYGBIV spectrum would be a trip.
“In your dreams,” Lydia said.
My faced scrunched up in disgust. “I would never want to dream about a girl.”
She nodded her approval at that and walked away from us.
Luke’s house both was and wasn’t a haven for all things gay. His parents hadn’t reacted well to Luke’s bi bomb—that would be a good name for a band, or a weapon that only people who liked multiple genders could use, or something, it would definitely be a good name for something—but they’d taken in queer orphan Lydia when her family reacted even worse to the Great Coming Out of Junior Year. That wasn’t really what anyone was calling it but maybe we should start.
Taking Lydia in really seemed like a sign that Luke’s parents were going to come around. Maybe they still were. They were just taking their sweet time.
“How was the rest of your weekend?” Luke asked me.
I made a noise equivalent to ‘dakljgdfagklf.’ Luke nodded in agreement. “Yeah, me too. My parents are just…” He trailed off, then made the same ‘agfljfgklafdg’ noise when he couldn’t think of the right words.
“Yeah. Maybe I should wear a tie next time I’m around them,” I suggested. That would solve everything. Somehow.
Luke made a face. “You don’t need to do that.”
“Maybe I’ll wear two ties.”
“Ryan, don’t sweat it.” He looked me in the eye and spoke seriously, but he probably knew I was going to do no such thing, he just had to try and tell me anyway.
“I do sweat it. I sweat all the time in fact. I don’t know whatever crap girls you dated were feeding you in the past, but all bodies sweat, that’s one of their jobs.”
He rolled his eyes. “So not how I meant it.” We were talking by his car and he moved to his trunk to get his bag out. He had a baseball game today. I held my hand out, ready to carry his bag for him because I’m a gentleman. Luke looked wary, like he didn’t think I’d be able to carry it but gave it to me anyway.
“What are we gonna do?” I asked, hefting the bag over my shoulder. I could be strong sometimes.
“Why do we have to do anything?”
