“Oh, so you approve of this?”
“Of course not! I tried to dissuade her too. She wouldn’t listen.”
“That’s true,” I say, hoping to take some of the heat off Mom. “She did. And I wouldn’t.”
Dad shakes his head in frustration. “I can’t believe this. I expected that you’d at least keep her safe while I was away working. Was that too much to ask?”
“Don’t go there, Dell.”
“Well weren’t you the adult around here? How could you let our teenage daughter set the rules?”
“There’s no rule against me having friends,” I point out.
Dad rolls his eyes, almost as well as Bree. “You don’t hold hands with friends.”
I knew we’d eventually have this argument…just didn’t want it to be the moment he walked in the door. “There are no rules against boyfriends either! I’m just trying to have a normal life here, and having a friend like Tanner is not abnormal. What’s the big deal?”
“You are waiting for a transplant! That’s a big deal! You’re so close, and this is just one more distraction that could get in the way of that, or put you at greater risk.”
In frustration, I throw my hands in the air. “How, Dad? Explain it to me. How is having a boyfriend going to put me at risk?”
He shakes his head again, then pauses to breathe. “This is your first relationship. Do you know what happens with every first relationship? Sooner or later, they fall apart. Trust me, Ann, I was a teenager once too. It’ll be lots of fun for a while, and then something will happen and he’ll break your heart. And sweetie…you don’t need another broken heart right now.”
“And she’s not even telling him the truth, Dad,” Bree chimes in. “He doesn’t know about you-know-what.” She points at her own chest.
Oh, that rotten little jealous weasel! “Shut up, Bree!”
Dad’s shoulders sink. “Seriously, Ann? You didn’t even tell him the most important thing about you?”
“That’s not the most important thing about me.”
“Until we find a donor it most certainly is!” Dad looks exasperated. “Emily, how could you let her do this? She has to at least tell him the truth, right?”
“Again, don’t go there, Dell. Don’t pin this on me. I told her the same thing you’re telling her now, but she wouldn’t listen. She’s stubborn…like her father.”
Dad’s jaw is clenched tight. “Well, if I’d been here, and she wouldn’t tell him, I’d have told him myself.”
Mom crosses her arms. “Great. You’ll have your chance tomorrow night, because he’s coming for dinner.”
“You’re not telling him, Dad! It’ll ruin everything.”
But he doesn’t back down. “Either you tell him or I will.” He says it with an unmistakable finality, signaling the end of the discussion.
I can feel my eyes welling up with moisture, then a big drop plummets onto my cheek. As I cross the room to the stairs, I belt out the one thing that I know will sting, even if I don’t mean it: “I wish you’d just stayed in Portland! We’d all be better off!”
Chapter 27
Dell
IT’S TWENTY MINUTES after five o’clock on Sunday evening, and there are about a million things I’d rather be doing right now than standing in front a mirror, changing my shirt…again. It’s the fourth such wardrobe change in thirty minutes.
Emily has been relatively quiet since I arrived yesterday. At first she seemed genuinely happy to see me, but then the whole Tanner topic came up, and the moment sort of unraveled.
I still can’t believe she let Ann start a relationship with some punk at the local candy shop!
At any rate, Emily seems to find my wardrobe changes amusing, since she’s usually the one who can’t decide what to wear. Oh well, at least she’s not frowning in my presence, so maybe things are looking up.
“You know he’s not coming to see you, right?”
“Just want to make sure he knows who’s the boss, that’s all.”
“And a Seahawks jersey will tell him that?” When I flex my biceps in the mirror, she laughs openly. It’s good to hear her laugh, even if she’s laughing at me rather than with me. “That’s it, Dell. Show him those guns of yours tonight. That’ll send him running for cover.”
I honestly don’t mind the ribbing. I know perfectly well that I’m making a big deal about having a teenage boy in the house for dinner. But I’m the only one in the family who knows exactly what that boy’s intentions are with my daughter. After all, I too was a seventeen-year-old boy once. “Oh I will. And if I had real guns, I’d flash those too. What kind of father would I be if this kid leaves here tonight thinking I’m just some pushover?” I look at myself in the mirror again and scowl menacingly. “How’s this?”