I don’t even want to think about it.
If dad loses the election, he’s lost everything, he’ll have to start over again.
I try and tell myself James loves me, that he wants to be with me, that I love him.
I do love him.
Then why would he? How could he do that to my dad, just to get closer to me?
It’s too confusing to even contemplate, and what was all that about James seeing me on TV? I’ve never been on TV in my whole life.
My perfect date and even more perfect evening has turned into what feels like a living nightmare all of a sudden.
I can’t even find my other god damned shoe for Christ’s sake.
I can feel my magic hair unraveling as I dash for my car, one shoe on and who knows where the other one is, hearing James coming after me but punching the gas and squealing down the road before it even hits me what’s happened.
What have I done?
I didn’t even ask James the million questions I have, I just blew my stack and left without even explaining anything.
Racing home, I almost dry heave with relief when I see my dad’s car isn’t there.
He’s not home yet.
I park and rush inside, sort of running and hopping up the stairs to my room where I slide out of the gown, tossing it into my closet before I get under the shower with a comb.
I rinse my hair out, combing it flat again before I start to scrub off my makeup, all the while trying to think of a reason why I should be mad at James.
I mean, a real reason.
He’s running for Mayor, not actually really trying though. He’s told me the truth, he came here for me.
I should be flattered.
Dad’s never lost an election yet, and why should he? I don’t think anyone would vote for an out of towner, even if they are as amazingly handsome as James.
Oh, I just don’t know anymore.
I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t.
If I stayed at James’ I’d have my dad scouring the countryside for me.
If I don’t go back to James, he’ll think I don’t love him.
He might even leave town altogether.
What do I do?
I barely have time to indulge in my existential crisis for long though. I’m not two minutes out of the shower, having just slipped into my pajamas when I hear my dad come in.
I gulp hard, freezing on the spot in the middle of my bedroom, waiting to hear him thump up the stairs, throw my door open, and demand I explain everything.
But he doesn’t.
In fact, after a few minutes, I start to wonder if I imagined hearing him come in at all.
Almost considering creeping downstairs to check if it is dad, I jump when I hear his gentle knock at my door.
“It’s just me,” he murmurs, and I move over to the door, opening it a little.
“Hi,” he says sheepishly.
“Hi,” I hear myself say, sounding like a normal person. Sounding like I haven’t just been eaten out by god’s gift to women and then stormed off like a lunatic banshee.
“Can I come in?” Dad asks, and I feel myself soften, kind of.
It’s hard to stay mad at my own dad, he’s the only family I’ve got. We’ve been through tighter spots than the past few days, and tonight I’ve discovered just how quickly things can get out of hand emotionally.
“It’s your house,” I announce, sounding way harder than I want to, moving over to my bed and sitting on the end as he slides into my room, leaving the door open.
“I had someone drive me home in my car,” he says absently. “Someone drove them back, I had a couple glasses of wines at dinner,” he admits. Like it’s something I’d judge him for.
I shrug and look up at the ceiling, feeling like I’m overdoing it, but I still can’t stop thinking about James and how I acted like such a dick in front of him.
“Have I ever been on TV dad?” I ask him, watching his expression change as he frowns before thinking about it some more.
“Uh… I guess, maybe. There was a PBS story on my time as Mayor, they did a bit from the dinner last year, and one of my speeches… why?” he asks, looking puzzled.
“Just wondering,” I chirp, pretending to yawn but knowing dad hasn’t even started with what he has to say yet.
“Look, Krystal. I’m sorry I was so hard on you earlier. I have my reasons though,” he explains.
It’s my turn to look puzzled.
He takes a breath and blows some air out of his cheeks in a ‘here goes’ moment.
“I just don’t want, I won’t have you being the center of attention with a man old enough to be… well. Old enough to be your father,” he says with the same tone of finality he used earlier when he forbid me to go to the dinner and ball.