by Arden, Mari
My dad’s driving antics always made me laugh. It was always and adventure when he was driving.
“I declare,” my dad said, now safely cruising down a main thoroughfare, “people do not know how to drive these days.”
I laughed. “Dad, maybe it’s you who doesn’t know how to drive.”
“Nonsense,” he waved his hand. His gold wedding band reflected in the sunlight.
My mom had been dead for almost eighteen years and in that time my dad had never dated anyone. Whenever I asked him why, he would look at me thoughtfully, and say, “Your momma was the love of my life. I’ll never find another love like hers.”
Sometimes I wished he would date; get any kind of social life, so he wouldn’t be so involved in mine. But other times I was thankful that my dad was so present in my life. We were close and had an unbreakable bond.
As the truck cruised down the road my hair swirled around my face. I had to keep batting it away and pulling it out of my mouth. My dad thought it was funny.
He pulled into Mammies and parked the truck. He took up two parking spots, but in dad’s book that was okay. I hopped out and followed him inside. He picked our usual booth and didn’t even bother opening a menu.
Jessica, the lone waitress, came over and leaned against the booth.
“The usual?” she asked.
My dad grinned. “Of course.”
Jessica grabbed the menus off the table and disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later she returned with a Dr. Pepper for me and a Bud Light for my dad.
I slurped the brown liquid down. I was so thirsty from sitting out in the Arkansas heat for the last while. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and secured it with a band off my wrist. Little wisps of hair still managed to escape and hang in my face. Oh well.
Jessica came back to the table with a refill of Dr. Pepper and a basket of fresh rolls. I grabbed one up and slathered it with butter, before devouring it. I hadn’t realized I was hungry until we got here.
“Slow down, Mara. You’re going to choke yourself,” dad chuckled.
“Hungry,” I mumbled around a mouthful of roll.
Dad laughed. “That’s very ladylike Mara,” he said.
“Bite me,” I growled.
“Girls,” he muttered. “Why couldn’t I have had a son?”
“Because I’m awesome and way better than any boy,” I swallowed. I added a flip of my hair for emphasis.
My dad laughed. “Mara, Mara, Mara,” he sighed.
“Oh,” I said, swallowing a bite of bread. I took a swig of soda for good measure. “Did you know that guy, the one with the dark hair and clothes, leaning against the bleachers?”
“I didn’t see anyone,” he said, way too quickly.
I narrowed my hazel eyes at him. “Really? I saw you looking at him.”
“No,” he said, “I saw no one.”
I swallowed some more soda and stared at my dad. I knew I saw the boy, and he had definitely been looking at him too. So why was he acting like the guy didn’t exist? It was peculiar to say the least.
Jessica came out with our food. A B.L.T. and fries for me and an artery clogging cheese burger for my dad.
My dad bit into his burger, chewed, and said, “I don’t know what I’ll do with you off at college next year. I’ll sure miss you baby girl.”
“Dad,” I whined. “Don’t make me cry. I have all summer with you. Don’t say goodbye yet. Besides,” I added, “I’m still going to be living at home and working around here. I’m only taking one class.” One class was, sadly, all I could afford.
My dad patted my hand. “It’s never too soon to say goodbye. Remember that, Mara.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He swallowed. “I just mean that. Sometimes you don’t have a chance to say goodbye.”
“You’re talking about mom aren’t you?”
He sighed. “Of course… among other things.”
His eyes kept darting around the restaurant. It was strange behavior for my father. He wasn’t normally so jumpy. I found myself constantly looking over my shoulder, expecting some kind of trouble.
Jessica came by with the ticket and dad couldn’t get it paid and out of there fast enough.
On the way home he kept glancing in the rearview mirror. But I never saw anything.
