Page 63 of Feel It All

I make it back to the apartment; I am tempted to knock on Winry’s door but decide to give her some space. Plus, after seven miles in the middle of July heat, I am drenched in sweat. I hop in the shower, hating that I am alone in here.

I get out and it’s not even time for lunch yet. I work tonight, so I know I will be kicking myself if I don’t at least get some sleep before my shift. My schedule went to shit this weekend, but I don’t care. It was all worth it, watching Winry be so happy, up until yesterday that is. I collapse on the bed and force myself asleep.

I sleep for a few hours but am drawn from my sleep by someone knocking at my door. It can’t be Winry, usually she just comes in. I throw on some sweats and a t-shirt and go downstairs.

Another knock comes. “I’m coming,” I holler. The thought that it’s my mom crosses my mind and I’m a little hesitant to open. But the last person I suspect stands on the other side. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too. Can I come in, or do you just want to stand in the doorway?” He asks, looking over my shoulder like he is looking for something.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I just was not expecting you to be here. To be honest I didn’t think you even knew where I lived.” I step aside, letting him in. He walks in and takes a seat on the couch.

“Well, your mom sent me here to, and I quote, ‘talk some sense into you.’” He rolls his eyes. “Come on, sit down. I got an earful from your mom, why don’t you tell me what really happened?”

“You came here because mom asked you?” Why are my parents acting so weird.

“Asked? No, more like demanded and would not stop messaging and calling me. She promised she would leave me alone if I came and talked to you. You got any beer?” He stands and walks to the fridge.

“Top shelf. None for me, I work tonight.” I take a seat at the opposite end of the couch.

He grabs a beer and sits back down. “Listen, if you just call your mom back that would save me a lot of trouble. Otherwise, I’m going to need to finish this beer before we talk.”

“Sorry, don’t plan on doing that. I’ll talk to her eventually, but right now the answer is no.” I don’t mean to be harsh, but she has to understand that what she did can’t go without consequences.

“All this over a girl, huh?” He takes a big swig of his beer.

“Not just any girl, Dad. She’s important to me, and Mom treated her horribly.” I don’t know why we are even talking about this. I don’t think my dad has ever butted into one of my and Mom’s disagreements.

“You going to marry her?” he asks with another swig.

“Yeah, I am. I know how you feel about marriage, but I love her and I’m going to marry her,” I say adamantly.

I prep myself for a lecture about how marriage is awful, but instead he just shrugs, “Can I meet her?”

“You want to meet Winry? Why?” Am I in the twilight zone or something?

“You say you love her, so I want to meet her. I promise I will be good. No ex-girlfriends, no judgment.” He takes his finger and makes a cross over his heart.

“Um, okay, I’ll see if she can come over. I’ll be back.” I stand and study him for a minute.

“I swear I will be nice. Now go.” He drains the last of his beer, and I walk out the door.

I knock on Winry’s door and wait a few seconds for her to open up. “Graham, hey.” I can tell she is not her usual happy self, and it hurts my soul.

“Hey, buttercup. I know this is crazy last minute and I get if you don’t want to, but,” I run my hand through my hair and rock on my feet, “my dad is here. He wants to meet you.”

“I don’t know…” I can see the fear in her eyes.

“I know, Win, but he swears he is here to get to know you. I don’t know, he has never done this before, so if you don’t want to you don’t have to.” My palms are sweaty, I am nervous for her to say yes and to say no. I don’t know how my dad will act with her, so I am just as apprehensive.

I can see the anxiety all over her face. “Okay. Just give me a second to change.”

“You don’t have to change, Winry. You look beautiful.” I pull her into my arms and kiss her like I wanted to when she opened the door. “Come on, I promise he does not care what you are wearing.”

“Okay.” She holds my hand, and we saunter back over to my place.

My dad sits in the same spot but stands up when we walk in. “Dad, this is Winry. Win, this is my dad.”

“Hi, Mr. Taylor, it’s nice to meet you,” she holds out her hand for a shake.

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