Kissing My Dad's Friend

I let out a sigh and fiddle with the phone, flipping it over between my palms. Then I slide the power button and turn it back off. I’m taking a break from the world today.

“So… where to?” Russ asks with a glance at me. We can’t go to the hospital for our shifts. Dad made it clear we wouldn’t be welcome there.

I wonder how long it will take for him to draw up severance papers. I wonder what excuse he’ll give for firing us both. It doesn’t matter. We have each other. That’s what matters.

I lean back against the seat. “Central Park?” I suggest, uncertain. At least nature might do us some good.

That’s when a palm slaps against my window, startling me. I jump nearly out of my seat. Dad’s standing by the passenger side window. He glances back over his shoulder, where I can see Mom standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her all black outfit, the meanest glare I’ve ever seen on her face. Mom rarely ever gets angry, but oh boy, when she does…

Dad taps at the window again, a little more gently this time, and Russ and I trade glances. I shrug and nod at him, and he pushes the button to roll down the power window slowly.

“Yes?” I ask, and I hope my voice sounds as dangerous as Mom looks.

But Dad doesn’t look at me. He looks past me, at Russ. “Were you telling the truth back there?” he asks, his voice low and filled with emotion. If I didn’t know him better, I’d almost say it sounded like regret. Maybe even hurt.

“About being homeless?” Russ’s eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. “Of course. Why would I make something like that up?”

“No, no.” Dad shakes his head. Then he pauses. His face pinches with a whole new feeling. That one is definitely regret. “I mean… I suspected something was going on, at the time. But I didn’t want to bring it up. I thought you wouldn’t want to talk about it, or that you’d be embarrassed by it.”

“I was,” Russ admits quietly. He shakes his head. “But I still needed help.”

“And I should have seen that. I’m sorry.” My father clears his throat. “But no, I meant… did you mean the other thing that you said. Do you really love Maggie?”

My eyes shoot wide as I glance from my father to Russ and back.

But Russ just looks at me, not even paying attention to my dad now. “I do mean it.” Russ reaches over to touch my chin and turn my face toward his. As if I could ever turn away. He leans in and kisses me, just a quick soft peck. But one that says it all.

We’re doing this. Whether you like it or not.

Back outside the car window, my father has crossed his arms. But the look he’s giving us now isn’t the same glare of sheer fury he wore earlier. He looks pensive. Thoughtful. “Well. Don’t think I fully approve, because I do still think there’s a very wide age difference, and—”

“John,” barks my mother from the back door of the house.

It almost makes me smile. Almost.

My father clears his throat with evident difficulty. “But, Maggie… You’re right. You are an adult now. More than that, you’re a smart, capable, responsible adult. I should trust you to make your own life decisions more often.” He takes a step back from the window and glances from me to Russ and back again. When he speaks next, his eyes focus on me. “I didn’t mean what I said, earlier. I do still want to see you both again. And Maggie, this house will always be your home. As for the hospital…”

He hesitates. Sucks in a deep breath and squares his shoulders, as if he’s bracing himself for something.

“If you both want to come back to work today, you are more than welcome to. I shouldn’t fire you for having lives outside of work, or for being brave enough to stand up to me when I make a bad, blind call in terms of other peoples’ care.”

“Is this you admitting you were wrong yesterday?” I blurt, unable to help myself.

Somewhere in the distance, I catch the faint sound of my mother’s laughter. My father, on the other hand, only scowls even more deeply. “I did not say wrong, precisely.” Then he catches himself and clamps his lips together. “But I was, Maggie. You were right. The people in the emergency needed your care and attention more than one wealthy board member did. Thank you for reminding me of my priorities, because I seem to have forgotten them somewhat, in recent years.”

A slow smile breaks out across my face. “It’s okay, Dad.”

“Well.” He clears his throat again, all gruffness now. He’s never been the type to talk about emotions for long, and situations in which he made a mistake make him even less comfortable with it. Admitting mistakes isn’t exactly his forte, clearly. “I’ll see you back at work in a few hours, then?” He glances past me at the clock.