Kissing My Dad's Friend

He watches me, sensing that I need to get this all out now.

“I’m ready to take the leap,” I say. “I’m ready to stand on my own two feet and see what comes of it. And, if you’re willing… I’d like you to be there, too.” I smile as I finish speaking, because Russ is already beaming too, ear to ear.

“Maggie… of course.” He leans down to kiss me, slow and soft and deep. I sink against him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he deepens the kiss. When we break apart, our faces hover a bare inch from one another. “We’ll be fine,” he murmurs. “Especially since we’re in this together.”

I tighten my grip on his neck. Kiss him again. When we break apart, he’s gazing at me with an intensity I’ve never seen before.

“I love you, Maggie Owens,” he says, loud and clear and steady. The words set off fireworks in the pit of my stomach, make my nerve endings light up with pleasure.

That’s when a gasp from the doorway interrupts us.

13

I whip around to find my mother and father standing in the doorway. Mom has her hand pressed over her mouth, keys dangling from her limp fingertips. Oh fuck.

They weren’t out of the house. Dad wasn’t at work.

“What is the—where have you—what is the meaning of this?” Dad bellows. His whole face has bypassed red and gone straight to purple. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this angry before. It’s somehow both terrifying and weirdly funny at once. A small, hysterical part of my brain just wants to start laughing at this whole damn situation.

A bigger part is too busy staring at both of my parents in horror.

“Get your hands off my daughter,” Dad finally sputters in Russ’s direction, taking a threatening step toward us.

But I reach down to grab Russ’s hand, and I don’t let go. I squeeze his fingers tight in an unspoken message. Russ put it all on the line for me yesterday, standing up to my father on my behalf. Now it’s my turn to do the same. “Don’t tell him what to do, Dad. It’s not your decision.”

“Not my—!”

“Exactly,” I interrupt. “Russ.” I turn back to him. I didn’t answer his statement earlier, and I really need to. “I love you too,” I tell him, and it’s worth everything just to see the way the words light up his face, spread a smile across it. I turn back to my parents, my shoulders straight and firm. “We’re in love, and we’re going to be together. I’m sick of hiding it.”

“This is unacceptable, Maggie,” my father yells, finally recovering his voice, it seems. “First all of your disobedience yesterday, then you disappear all night, leaving your mother frantic with worry.” He gestures at her. As for Mom, she’s glancing back and forth between Russ and me, her face a mask of confusion, as if she’s doing mental calculus. Trying to figure out if she should have guessed this was happening sooner, or what signs she missed. “We left before dawn today looking for you, driving by all of your little friends’ houses.”

My friends who are currently in other countries? I roll my eyes, not bothering to disguise it. Even if I had been missing, my own father wouldn’t have even been able to guess where to find me.

“And now we learn you were shacking up with my, my… my friend, my colleague, a man twice your age—”

“I am a grown adult now, Dad,” I snap. “I’m sorry that you still can’t see that. I’m sorry you think that you have the right to control me even now, but you don’t. It’s my life, and I get to decide how I spend it. I want to be with Russ.”

“Honey,” Mom begins, but my father bellows over her.

“And you.” He rounds on Russ. “After everything we’ve been through together. I never want to see your face again.”

I tense, ready to fight back more, but Russ rests a hand on my shoulder, communicating without words that it’s his turn, now.

“That’s fine, John,” Russ says, in a voice so quiet and calm that it confuses my father into clamping his mouth shut. “I’ve enjoyed our friendship over the years, I really have. But you never really saw the real me, anyway. Back when we were younger, you willfully ignored me for a while. So what difference will it make, if you do so again now?” He shakes his head, but he looks sad, too. “Our friendship was always built on half-truths anyway. Maybe it’s better to just get the whole truth out there.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” my father snaps. But underneath the anger and the bluster, I can see his emotions rising to the surface. He’s upset, too. He really does care about Russ. Even if he has a selfish, controlling way of showing it.