My father clears his throat again. “Scott Sears. Your boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” I say with a big smile. Probably should tone it down, but I am very happy Scott is my ex.
“Really? That’s a shame.” My father signals for another single malt scotch. “I thought things were going well.”
“Mmm.” I pretend my mouth is full of arugula.
“Actually, that’s why I called you here. I wanted to talk to you about Scott.” He gives me a look under his thick brows, a look that means I am very serious. We are having a Very Important Talk. “He’s a good man, Sadie. There aren’t that many in a town this small. He’s going places. He’s an important part of the growth and development of the town. I think you’d be very happy with him.”
Seriously?
“When you decided to become a teacher, as you know, your mother and I were concerned.”
I grip my fork tighter to keep me from going for my knife. I hate it when my father talks about mom like he knows her and can speak for her opinion. As far as I know, he and mom haven’t spoken in years.
“But we thought if you could find yourself a good man with a stable vocation, you’d be fine. Besides, once you start having children, you’ll want a man to support you.”
I can’t even.
“And, Sadie, Scott is that man.” My father starts rambling again, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Which is so unlike me, but what am I doing here? It would be so easy to just stand up, throw my napkin down on my mangled entree and stride away from the table. I could even grab a bottle of wine on the way out. I don’t need to drive home—I could call Deke. Tell him I need a ride, and that I’ll owe him another favor. He’ll ride up on his big bike just as I’m finishing the wine, hand me a helmet, and I’ll straddle that giant, vibrating beast, all that power between my legs and...Mmmmm.
I’m halfway through a motorcycle-ride-with-Deke fantasy when my father says. “And of course, there’s the wedding. You’ll need to iron things out before you two travel together.”
I’ve half tuned my father out, but this snags my attention. “Wedding?” Oh God! How could I forget Jenn’s wedding? I blocked it out.
My father steeples his fingers and purses his lips to signal his displeasure. He can tell I haven't been paying attention. “Aren’t you two both in a wedding together? For your two friends in Santa Fe?”
Gaaaaaaah. “Jenn and Geoff. Yes.” I resist the urge to rub my head. Suddenly I’ve got a headache. Jenn is a high school friend from Taos. Her boyfriend Geoff is Scott’s friend from college. They’re the ones who set us up with each other when Scott first moved to Taos from Santa Fe.
“You’ll be in Santa Fe for a long weekend, right?”
I suddenly realize why my father looks so smug, why he knows all about this wedding and organized this dinner with me.
“You talked to Scott,” I accuse. “He called you and told you all about this. That’s why you wanted to talk to me.”
My father frowns again. “Scott and I talked, yes. He’s involved in business around Taos, as am I. And our paths cross often.”
“Of course. You’re birds of a feather.”
I don’t mean it as a compliment, but my father takes it as one. “Yes. And he mentioned this wedding, that you’ll be spending time together in an idyllic setting. It’ll be the perfect time to talk about your relationship and smooth out your differences.”
Only my father would refer to Scott cheating on me and being a total butthole as “differences” and expect us to simply “smooth them out,” meaning he expects me to overlook them. Like my mother overlooked my father’s indiscretions until she finally got the courage to leave him.
“It’s perfect,” my father continues. He’s all jovial now, cutting his steak. “I always said you and Scott were meant to be.”
I would do my best impression of Munch’s painting The Scream, vocals and all, but I am truly speechless.
“I’m your father,” he finishes. “I simply want what’s best for you.”
When I finally stagger back home, I have a splitting headache. Dinners with my father are always like descending to the Ninth Circle of hell, but that was something else. Apparently my father’s vision for me is to become some sort of 1950s desperate housewife. And Scott would heartily approve.
They colluded on this. I found my backbone to stand up to Scott, but the two of them working in tandem? It’s just too much. I don’t know—I’ve always been a doormat to my dad. He has a very dominant personality. After he drove my mom away, and he was all I had, I think I was afraid of ever displeasing him for fear the only parent I had would reject me.