Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
She has a good job these days, and money isn’t so tight. But we still enjoy these projects together.
“Didn’t you say you had some work to do for school?” she asks, checking the time. “I can hem these by myself, you know.”
“It’s just some reading. But I should probably do it,” I admit. “I missed the first lecture because we were in Florida. The class is on sports management, though, so the professor was really understanding.”
“He should be! You could be teaching that class, Darcy. They’re lucky to have you.”
I appreciate her mom’s-eye view of the situation, but there’s plenty I don’t know about the business of professional sports. “Someday,” I promise. “But I’d better start by getting an A in the class.”
“Good plan.”
I sit down at the kitchen table—the one we sanded and painted last summer—and open my course syllabus. I read about accounting principles for, oh, a solid ten minutes. But then I’m distracted by a text from my father.
Pumpkin, sorry about Game 7! I’d been rooting for you guys, at least after Boston got knocked out!
It’s wild how perfectly this text encapsulates my life. My father only roots for me when his first choice isn’t available.
But the next thing he texts isn’t so on-brand:
I was hoping you’d come to the shower this weekend. Theo can’t wait for you to meet Maribel.
Also, I thought we could have lunch together afterward, before you leave town. There’s something I want to discuss with you.
Let me know if noon works on Sunday. I’ll call the country club.
The first bit makes me roll my eyes, because I doubt Theo will notice if I turn up at his shower. But the rest of it is a puzzle.
When I was a teenager, I would have given my right arm for an invitation to lunch alone with my dad. After he moved out, I never got any more alone time with him. In fact, he seemed to make it his life’s mission to force his so-called blended family to spend time together.
Like on my fourteenth birthday, when he told me he’d made a reservation for us at the Olive Garden—my guilty pleasure. So I’d put on the new sundress my mother had sewn for me—pale yellow with tiny daisies—and I’d watched from the window for the glint of his car.
But when his silver BMW pulled up, Tessa was in the passenger seat. I remember the humiliation of having to climb into the back. And instead of the Olive Garden, we went to some trendy bistro that Tessa picked. I’d felt babyish in my cheerful sundress while Tessa wore designer jeans and a slouchy sweater.
That birthday still haunts my teen memories. Tessa had given me a twenty-five-dollar gift card to Abercrombie. Twenty-five bucks barely covered a T-shirt, and I’d hated myself a little when I’d shopped the sale rack the following week for something—anything that I could afford from that store.
My wariness at a lunch invitation from my dad is justified, to say the least.
I puzzle over it instead of finishing my first homework assignment. I know I should just turn him down and forget about it. Hell, I could just bail on the wedding shower, too. That would be healthier than pouting here, along with my inner fourteen-year-old.
But after a few minutes of indecision, I hit on the perfect solution.
Hey, Dad. Noon might work for lunch. Is it just the two of us? I’ll have to check with my date. He and I haven’t figured out our itinerary yet.
I hit send, feeling very satisfied with myself. And he answers almost immediately.
Dad: It was going to be just the two of us. But if your date is at loose ends, he can join us, and we’ll have a private coffee afterwards or something.
Hmm. What would he want to discuss, anyway?
Darcy: Okay, I can probably make it work, unless he needs to get back to the city early in the day. I’ll tell you by tomorrow.
Dad: Super! And let me know if I can help out with your hotel reservation. I know it’s an inconvenience to come from out of town.
It is inconvenient. But I don’t take favors from him as a point of pride, and he knows that. Luckily, my job has some serious perks.
Darcy: I used points to get a room, but thanks. Any idea what’s on Maribel’s gift registry?
Dad: Sorry, pumpkin. That’s your lovely sister’s department. See you Saturday!
My lovely sister. How nice it must be to live in a world where you get to create your own reality. Where you see everyone as lovely because it’s so much easier than acknowledging the truth—that your own selfishness brought so much confusion and pain to your family.
And I still need a fricking shower gift.
“Darcy? Are you texting with your father?”
I startle to find my mother standing over my shoulder, holding a curtain panel. “Um, yup. There’s a wedding shower for Theo next week.”