Overlooked(1)(181)
“No! Wait, fine, tell me.”
“His fiancée is his younger sister’s old college roommate. She came to visit his sister, they met, and ended up engaged,” she says, pointing to her ring finger.
“Poor girl, doesn’t she have any standards?”
“I know, right?”
“I don’t understand why I stayed with him so long. He was so boring – in and out of bed.”
Why did I waste so much of my life with him? Sure he was charming at first, but he stopped trying pretty damn fast. By that point we were living together, and it was too comfortable, I suppose.
That’s probably why he got engaged so fast, so when he stops trying she’ll be even more sucked in than I was.
At least I know he never cheated on me, that would’ve taken effort. He was far happier on the couch, staring at the TV with his hands down his pants.
Through the computer, I hear her doorbell. “Okay, gotta go. Talk soon.”
“Love you,” I say.
“Love you too, babe,” Darla says.
I sit motionless, wondering what to do next.
Knox
Why is she pointing her laptop out the window? Is she filming me? I fight the churning in my gut and don’t go pound on her door. As much as I want to barge into her house to demand answers and make it clear she’s never to video me again, I fight the urge.
Or whatever it is she’s doing.
She’s different, I’ll give her that much.
I work another hour, retesting and re-tweaking every last mechanical element of the ’71 Mustang before I drive it over to Marcus tomorrow. He’ll give the interior and exterior one final polish and shine before handing it over to the buyer.
He deals with most of the face-to-face client stuff, because he says I’m too rude. Whatever. I let him do it because then it’s one less thing for me to do. Though he always seems to need my ‘help’ when the client is a woman.
At six, I head inside.
“Supper!” I call to Piper.
I take two plates out of the cupboard and spoon on some chili from the simmering pot on the stove. It’s the best dish I make, and Piper’s favorite food.
After I set the dishes on the small kitchen table, I plop a microwaved bag of rice and a tub of sour cream in the middle of the table. I put a can of coke beside her plate, and a can of beer beside mine.
“What’s tonight?” Piper says as she bounds into the room. She walks to the fridge with the coke, puts it back, and grabs a glass of water instead.
“Chili night.”
“Cool.”
“Just cool? I thought it was your favorite.”
“It used to be. But not anymore,” she says and shovels a spoonful of sour cream onto her plate.
Is this another thirteen-year-old thing?
“What’s your new favorite?” I ask. I’ll make it for her tomorrow.
I tear open the bag of rice and shake some onto each of our plates.
“I don’t know. I can’t decide.”
“Oh well, you can have more than one food you like best.”
Piper’s bottom lip sticks out, the way it did when she was little and trying to figure out a problem. With her fork, she mixes her rice, chili and sour cream into an unappetizing mess.
“Dad.” The seriousness of her voice puts me on alert.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“I don’t have any favorite things.” Her shoulders slump.
“So? What does that matter?”
Piper drops her fork and looks at me like I’m the biggest idiot who ever lived. “I can’t decide on any favorite things!”
“That’s fine. I don’t have favorite things either.”
“You have a favorite band, it’s the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I don’t even have a favorite band.”
“But that’s no big deal. You like lots of songs.”
“It is a big deal, it makes me boring.”
“You’re not boring. It probably makes you more interesting.”
“It’s doesn’t. It makes me weird. How am I supposed to answer generic first-date questions? I’m doomed.”
My heart hammers against my ribs at the thought of her dating. I can barely bring myself to think about it.
“Boys don’t care about your favorite things,” I say, leaning over my plate and dangling my fork from my fingers.
“They don’t? What else would we talk about? And don’t say politics.”
The topic makes my shoulders tense.
“All sorts of thing. Movies, sports.”
“And kissing. Is it true they like to talk about s-e-x?”
My fork falls from my hand, and I clear my throat. My heart and brain nearly explode. I can’t believe she said that to me. Though part of me is glad she’ll talk about anything to me. I guess.