“If you’re going for Dirty Harry, you nailed it.”
“Excellent. I think I’m ready.” I flex once more for good measure.
“I better warn Ann what she’s in for,” she mutters on her way upstairs.
A few minutes later, the doorbell rings, and I make sure I’m the one to answer. As I wipe my palms on my jeans and prepare to open the front door, my mind wanders back to the day that Ann was born. We thought we were having a boy, so when she showed up without a Y chromosome, my whole outlook on fatherhood abruptly changed. Rather than thinking of myself as the preparer of a future man, I was suddenly the protector from future men. For seventeen years I’ve been gearing up to dissuade would-be suitors, and now the moment is finally here for me to fulfill my charge as a father.
I squint once more like Dirty Harry, then pull on the doorknob. “Hello.”
“Hey, what’s up? I’m Tanner. Is Ann here?”
“What’s up?” Who says that? I offer him a barely audible sound in the affirmative, then motion for him to come in.
“You a Seahawks fan?” he asks, pointing at the jersey.
Instinctively, I flex my chest, hoping to fill the jersey out a little more. Then I nod and give a carefully articulated grunt.
I can see in Ann’s eyes that she is fully embarrassed by my performance, but that’s OK. I’m sure she’ll thank me someday, years from now when she has the luxury of checking her pulse just for the fun of it. For now, though, she shakes her head and steps forward to greet Tanner with a hug.
A hug! Right in front of me!
After the hug, Emily and Cade both greet him with a wave. Bree is at the back of the pack, and she either has something in her eye or she’s batting her eyes at him.
Oh great…now I have TWO teenage daughters to protect from this young man.
Ann must have seen it too, because she steps in before Bree can get two words in edgewise. “Sorry for the big welcome, Tanner. You’re our first dinner guest here this summer, so everyone’s kind of excited.”
“Not everyone,” I mumble softly enough that Tanner can’t hear.
“Nah, it’s cool. You have an awesome family.”
“Well, I think my mom has dinner all ready. Do you want to follow me to the kitchen?”
The single-file parade to the kitchen table makes me think of a funeral procession. At first the thought amuses me, like maybe the presence of this pestering teenage boy will be the death of me. But then I realize that the person at the front of the line—the hearse, as it were—is Ann, and suddenly it isn’t so funny.
Emily catches me stalling at the tail of the line and holds back to speak to me. “C’mon, Dell. Give him a chance. He’s really not so bad.”
“That’s just a ruse. Trust me.”
“Oh, relax. This is just one little dinner.”
Trying to smile, I explain, “I just don’t like the thought of our little girl growing up, and one little dinner could be the gateway to adulthood.”
Her mood turns instantly serious. “She should be so lucky.”
I don’t have a good comeback, so I give a little grunt, turn on a tough scowl, and follow her into the kitchen.
For most of the meal I just sit there listening to and watching the various interactions with Tanner at the dinner table. Everyone has questions for him, but they all ask them in such different ways, and likely for very different purposes. Emily’s questions are short and sweet, but always seem intended as lead-ins to say something flattering about Ann. Cade is just glad to have another guy in the house, so when he speaks up, it is usually to further establish the fact that they share a common bond: They aren’t girls. Then there is Bree, whose every syllable has but one obvious objective: to make Tanner notice her instead of Ann.
During dessert Tanner turns the tables by asking a question of his own. Of me.
“Mr. Bennett, what do you like about being a lawyer?”
Think Dirty Harry thoughts! “Well…I suppose I just really get a rush seeing criminals get what they deserve. Do you know how many punks your age I’ve helped put behind bars for…oh, I don’t know…curfew violations, public displays of affection, things of that nature?”
“You’re a corporate lawyer, Dad,” chimes in Ann, “not a criminal prosecutor. And those aren’t criminal offenses anyway.”
“OK, fine. But I do have friends who are district attorneys. Two of them. And they can both do background checks on anybody I want. Plus I’ve got a cousin who’s a police officer.” I purposefully narrow my focus on Tanner. “A gun-carrying, law-enforcing police officer.” I hesitate long enough for that to sink in, then add, “Just saying.”