Dating: For the Block

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Dating: For the Block Page 2

by Stephanie Street

Which meant we shared a beat up old Subaru she’d had since high school. I gave the car another six months before it gave up the ghost, but it would be even less if we didn’t keep oil in it. Stupid thing burned through oil almost as fast as I could put it in, but at least it ran…most of the time.

  Mom’s phone buzzed in her shirt. We’d made a pact about phones at the table, but I could tell she wanted to look. I frowned wondering who she might be texting. Most of her friends were people from work. Some of the nurses had a group chat where they shared memes and funny stories from their shifts, but none of them made her blush like she was doing right now. What was going on?

  I opened my mouth to ask, but she distracted me by saying, “I got a call last night.”

  The forced casual tone of her voice had my hackles rising. “Yeah?”

  She took another bite of food.

  I set my fork down beside my plate and waited. She wasn’t fooling anyone. It had just been the two of us for as long as I could remember. I knew her better than most kids knew their parents and these last couple of years the line between parent and child had blurred a little.

  She chewed her pancake and swallowed. “Your grandparents would like to see you.”

  I knew immediately she didn’t mean her own parents who’d died within ten months of each other when I was eight.

  I sat back in my chair. It wasn’t unusual for the parents of the man who was half responsible for my existence to want to spend time with me. They lived an hour away. I saw them a few times a year and they made it a point to attend at least one of my basketball games during the season. They’d been traveling over the holidays, so I hadn’t seen them this time. Instead, I received a card in the mail along with a hundred dollar gift card I could spend anywhere and a phone call on Christmas Day.

  They weren’t hands on grandparents, but they loved me and Mom never made it difficult for them to spend time with me.

  It wasn’t unusual for them to want to see me. So, why was she being so weird about this?

  “Ok-ay?”

  Mom put her fork down with a light clink! and met my gaze with a direct one of her own. “Your dad wants to see you.”

  It took a second for her words to sink in and when they did, frustration bubbled up forcing me out of my chair. “What? Why?”

  Mom had on her calm face, the one she used to keep her patients from freaking out when they every right to be freaking out.

  I was freaking out.

  “He’s getting married.” I hated that calm voice. Nothing good was ever said with that voice.

  I walked to the sink and braced my hands on the edge. Out the window, in the neighborhood behind our apartment complex, a dog played in a fenced-in yard. When I was little I used to play with some of the kids who lived in the big, pretty houses lining the street one over from ours. Their lives always seemed so idyllic compared to mine. Two parents. A house. A yard with a swing set. Sometimes a pet.

  I knew in my heart the circumstances of my life weren’t the fault of the woman who raised me.

  Nope.

  The reason I lived in this dumpy apartment with a cement rectangle out back instead of a green yard with a jungle gym and a puppy, was him.

  My dad.

  More like sperm donor.

  I never joked about that because my friends Piper and Luke, a set of twins at my school, really were the product of a sperm donor. But really, how was their situation all that different from mine?

  “Gray?”

  His name might be on my birth certificate, but that didn’t mean he was my father.

  I kept my eyes trained on the dog in the yard that seemed lightyears away but in reality couldn’t have been more than the length of a football field.

  “I don’t want to see him.” Ever.

  Wooden chair legs scraped against worn linoleum and a moment later that soft hand I preferred to wake up to was on my shoulder.

  “I know. And I won’t force you to do it.”

  There was a ‘but’ coming, I just knew it.

  “But-” See? I was right. “It could be a good thing, hmm?” Her words were quiet, yet full of strength. I could tell she thought I should go. See him. Talk to him.

  I wanted to punch him.

  “How could seeing the man who abandoned us be a good thing, Mom? Where has he been the last eighteen years?” He left my mom when I was only a couple of months old. Other than a few sporadic birthday cards and the occasional Christmas present, I hadn’t seen or heard from him since then. Where had he been all this time? Where was he when Mom needed his help? When I needed his help?

  Beside me, Mom sighed. Her hand slipped from my shoulder to scratch my back. She always did that when I was sad. Or mad. Or couldn’t fall asleep at night. Or when she was trying to talk me around. Like right now.

  “Just think about it, okay?” With a final pat on my back, she returned to the table to collect our dishes.

  I stepped out of the way so she could put them in the sink while so many different emotions raged inside me making it impossible to process any of them.

  I was too frustrated to try.

  “I gotta go.” After dropping another kiss on her cheek, I hooked my backpack over my shoulder and made my way out to our car that was such a piece of junk I wanted to light it on fire. Maybe if he’d been around once in a while, at least long enough to pay some child support, we’d have enough money to drive something that wasn’t meant for the junkyard. Maybe if he’d been around, Mom could have gotten her degree sooner and we would already be living in our own house. Maybe we’d have a dog. Maybe Mom wouldn’t be so exhausted and worried all the time.

  Thoughts of my father consumed me as I drove to school. My grandparents weren’t stupid. They knew what kind of man their son had become, but they loved him enough to look past his failures to his successes. And there was no doubt he was successful. They had pictures of him hanging up in their house, posing in all these exotic places. He was a photographer. His photos had been featured in magazines like National Geographic and I’d seen them in online articles. He took pictures of people in desolate and desperate circumstances and made money off of them. Lots of money.

  He made me sick.

  Mom made excuses for him. He had wanderlust. He’d never been happy in our small town. He was never going to be happy here, working a dead end job and taking care of his family. And on and on.

  What a load of crap.

  I pulled into the school parking lot and found my spot. Throwing the gear shift into neutral, I set the parking break, cursing. None of my friends even knew how to drive a manual transmission. I didn’t even think any of their parents knew how to drive them. Of course, Mom grew up on a farm and had learned to drive a tractor before she ever drove a car. I wouldn’t have believed my tiny mom could drive one of those things if I hadn’t seen photographic evidence myself.

  He’d even taken the picture.

  I wanted to rewind this morning and stop my mom from ever telling me about my father. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t moody. I wasn’t an angry person. I was known for my charm and laid back smile, not this scowl that hadn’t left my face since she’d brought him up.

  “Grayson!” a female voice called as soon as I got out of the car.

  It was Kaylee. Or was it Kylie? Kaycee? Didn’t matter.

  “Hey.” I mustered up the smile that literally had girls falling at my feet and didn’t complain when she threaded her hand through my elbow.

  Girls were my kryptonite.

  “Two whole weeks. I missed you,” she cooed, the scent of her sweet smelling hair drifting up from where her head leaned into my shoulder.

  I knew she was being ridiculous. We’d hardly talked. I couldn’t even remember her name. But I didn’t care. My friends thought I was a player, but the truth was I just understood girls better than they did. Maybe it was because I’d been raised on emotional roller-coasters and Rom-Coms by my single mother or maybe I was just more sensitive than my male counterparts, I wasn’
t sure. Either way, girls flocked to me. I wasn’t bad looking, but I didn’t think I was the best looking guy in the school. I was on the basketball team and I started, but wasn’t the best player. I was about six feet tall and I worked out, but there were definitely other guys who were taller, stronger.

  I figured the way to make myself stand out was to be nice. There weren’t a lot of those guys around. And I worked at not being fake. I liked girls. I liked being around them. And I loved the way it made me feel when they looked at me with stars in their eyes. All I had to do was make sure not to take advantage of them and we all had a good time.

  “I missed you, too.” Riley?

  3

  Mia

  “Rise and shine, sunshine!”

  “Mmmm,” I groaned, rolling over and tucking my head under my pillow.

  Dad had been saying the same thing since I could remember. He was an early riser and I couldn’t think of a time I’d gotten out of bed before him. Even on Christmas morning.

  “Mia!” He pounded on my door with his fist.

  I knew he wouldn’t let up until I reassured him I was actually getting out of bed. “I’m up, Dad. Sheesh.”

  “Awake isn’t the same as out of bed. We leave in thirty minutes.” With that, his footsteps stomped down the stairs where I knew he’d sit at the table with a bowl of oatmeal while scrolling through Facebook until I was ready to go.

  I laid in my bed for a solid five minutes before finally getting up. I had zero motivation and wondered if Dad was gullible enough to agree to letting me stay home a day to get acclimated.

  He wasn’t.

  I didn’t bother making my dusty bed. Instead, I stripped it down to the mattress and piled the blankets by the door so I could throw them in the washer before we left for the day. I’d have just enough time to dry them between the time we got home and bedtime that night.

  In the bathroom, I splashed ice cold water from the tap on my face, hoping to reduce the swelling around my eyes from crying myself to sleep. Using the elastic around my wrist, I threw my hair up into a messy bun that should hold for the rest of the day and stepped into the shower. The warm water sluiced over my skin, washing away the faint scent leftover from the three and a half hour flight across country. I scrubbed with the body wash I’d purchased the last time I was here. It was the same kind I used back home and the familiar aroma filling the steamy shower enclosure chased away some of the melancholy.

  After my quick shower, I ran back to my room wearing just a bath towel, grateful Dad was already downstairs. I’d have to see about getting a robe or try to remember to bring my clothes with me into the bathroom. I never had to worry about it at Mom’s house since I had my own bathroom attached to my bedroom.

  “Mia!” Dad called up the stairs. I glanced at the time on my phone.

  I still had ten minutes.

  “I’m coming!” He didn’t need to know I still hadn’t decided what to wear for my first day at a new school. At least I’d made the transition between semesters and not in the middle. I’d finished my classes in California and Dad made sure to go over my transcript and then register me for the classes I would need to meet Indiana’s graduation requirements.

  Irritated with my own inability to make a decision, I plucked my favorite pair of jeans from my suitcase and slipped them up my legs and over my hips. They felt familiar and that familiarity gave me confidence. Since I wasn’t used to the colder-than-a-vampire’s-heart temperatures, I figured I’d go for ‘cozy and warm’ over ‘stylish and freezing’ and pulled an Eastridge Heights basketball hoodie over a long-sleeved t-shirt.

  My still-golden skin didn’t need much more than some tinted moisturizer. That and some mascara and I was ready.

  I headed downstairs with my bedding and my backpack. He might not have washed my sheets, but at least Dad had purchased the school supplies I would need for the classes on my schedule. I set the backpack by the back door and carried the laundry into the small room at the back of the kitchen where the washer and dryer were hooked up.

  “Something wrong with your bed?” Dad asked, his forehead wrinkled as he watched me pour soap into the dispenser.

  “Just a little stale.” I didn’t want to make him feel too bad, but couldn’t let him think I’d had an accident or something, either.

  “Oh. Sorry, pumpkin. I should have thought of that.”

  I forced a cheerful smile, meeting his eyes for the first time since we’d walked into the house last night.

  “Hey, you okay? I know this is a big change.” He put his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest and I let him. I didn’t have anything against my dad. I usually looked forward to our visits and we always got along. It wasn’t his fault Mom got married and moved to the middle of the tundra. Me living here full time was sure to put a cramp in his bachelor lifestyle. I frowned into his shoulder thinking about the phone call I’d overheard the night before. At least, I thought he was still a bachelor.

  Whatever, life was about making the best of circumstances beyond our control. Right now I had no choice but to buckle down and go with it. My plan was to stay in Indiana until graduation. Five months. For the next five months, I had a roof over my head, food to eat, and a parent that loved me. Really, what was there to complain about?

  At least, that’s what I would be telling myself until it was all over and I was able to go to college and start making my own choices.

  In the meantime, Dad’s familiar scent and strong arms were just what I needed to fortify myself for what lay ahead. Namely, my first first day at a new school.

  “I’m fine, Dad. Thanks for taking me in.” I was just being funny. Sort of. He was my dad, it’s not like he could have said no.

  Dad pulled back, his eyes narrowed as he studied my face. “Are you kidding me? I’m thrilled you’re here. I know this probably isn’t what you wanted, but I’m so glad I get this chance to spend time with you before you go and grow up on me.”

  Well, now I was going to cry again. I guess I hadn’t thought about it from his perspective before. He’d only seen me for weeks or days at a time for the last ten years. This five months would probably be longer than all of that time put together. I snaked my arms around his waist and squeezed.

  “It’s gonna be great.”

  At least, as far as my relationship with him was concerned.

  Dad’s house was only a few minutes from the school, a few minutes he tried to fill with a heart to heart about Mom.

  “Did you talk to your mom yet? Let her know you made it safe and sound?”

  He didn’t mean that literally. Dad always texted her as soon as he had eyes on me at the airport and she did the same. Even though I’d been flying by myself since I was seven and always felt perfectly safe, they both stressed and worried until they were certain I was safe in the hands of the receiving parent.

  “I texted.” Then called Brooke and talked for the next hour, ignoring the incoming calls from my mom.

  Dad sighed, his eyes never leaving the road in front of him. “Look, kiddo. I know this is hard. Moving. Mom getting married,” his voice trailed off. Deep down Dad was happy for Mom that she’d found someone after all this time. Apparently, there was no amount of time that could take all the awkward out of your ex getting remarried, but Dad was trying. He called me after the wedding to make sure I was holding up okay and even offered to fly out to L.A. to spend the week with me while Mom and Mark honeymooned in Fiji. Of course, I reassured him I’d be fine at Brooke’s.

  And I had been.

  It was the week after they got back and announced they were moving when I wanted to scream and throw a tantrum on the living room carpet.

  “It’s fine, Dad.” It wasn’t. But it also wasn’t his fault. I had to keep reminding myself not to take this out on him. Honestly, I was thankful he was okay with being a full-time dad for the first time in ten years. Otherwise, I’d be freezing my butt off in Alaska.

  Traffic picked up the closer we got to the scho
ol. I’d been to Eastridge Heights High School a million times. Every time I visited, Dad always had something going on with basketball. Summer camps. Open gym. Weight lifting. At Christmas, it was always the Holiday Tourney. Besides his coaching responsibilities, Dad was also a P.E. teacher. His whole life revolved around the school. Nervous as I was at least I wasn’t going in blind.

  Dad cleared his throat as he pulled into the parking lot and drove around to the section reserved for faculty. “Okay, well let me know if you want to talk about it. Or anything.”

  That was never going to happen. I loved my dad, but I had Brooke for hashing out all my dysfunctional feelings. “Thanks, Dad.” There was no reason to hurt his feelings.

  He parked the car and we got out. We were early. The student lot was empty except for a couple of do-gooders and a few suck-up athletes. I was determined to avoid both groups by hiding in Dad’s office until the warning bell rang.

  Dad pulled a key ring out of his pocket and used one of the keys to open a side door to the gymnasium. Holding it wide, he gestured for me to go first and that was when it hit me. I would be going to school here, not just passing time during the summer or holidays while my dad worked. I couldn’t help looking at everything differently and for the first time since learning about my move, I felt nervous.

  I followed my dad’s broad shoulders down a familiar hall past the locker rooms to the small room that served as his office. The jangle of his keys echoed in the empty hallway. I wanted to quite them in case they alerted someone to my presence here in this place where I felt I didn’t belong.

  A deep male shout echoing from the bowels of the nearby locker room had my head snapping up. Laughter followed, the sound of it not as far from the cinderblock entrance as I would like. Finally, Dad pushed open the door to his office and I scrambled past him to safety within.

  He gave me a funny look which I ignored. I wasn’t ready to see anyone just yet.

  I knew he’d head back out, probably to investigate the shenanigans going on in the locker room, so I took up position in the chair behind his desk. It was definitely more comfortable than the worn-out pair resting against the wall just inside the door where his athletes sat to get chewed out.

 

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