“This is a joke,” my dad finally says weakly. “A joke, right? I mean, where...? How...? What are you trying to say?”
This was going terribly, but now that it’s out I know we have to just plow though. I reach into my purse and pull out my engagement ring. It’s dazzling in the candlelight. I put it on, and my dad’s face turns greyish. My mom places a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it off.
“David-” Andrew starts to say.
“No. Stop. Not another word.” My dad holds up his hand. His mouth is set, and I know what’s about to come is anger.
“I can’t believe this. You, the one man who I thought would be safe around my daughter. And now I hear that you’ve been sneaking around behind my back?! What kind of a lousy, backstabbing asshole are you?!”
My mom tries to put a calming hand on my dad again, but he swats it away. She holds it to her chest, stunned. I can’t believe it either. My dad stands up, throwing the cloth napkin onto the table. I try to say something, anything, but he cuts me off.
“I can’t believe you’re just sitting there, expecting me to be happy for you!” he roars. He points a shaking finger at Andrew. “You’re dead to me.”
“Dad-”
“And you!” he says, rounding on me. “Noelle! I can’t believe you’d hide this from me. How long has this been going on?”
“Since I moved out,” I say quietly.
“I thought you were living with Lana,” my mom murmurs. She’s torn. I know she feels that she should stand by my father, but she also doesn’t want to lose me.
“I’m sorry. I just, I know that this is hard to take, and we weren’t sure how it was going to be. We wanted to be sure of how we felt before we told you guys.”
“And now you’re getting married?” my father said incredulously. “In the span of just a few months? You’re young Noelle. You’ve got your life ahead of you.”
He pauses for a moment, fighting with something in his mind.
“Is this because he’s knocked you up?”
Andrew rises to his feet.
“This isn’t a fling for me David,” he says as calm as he can. “I love Noelle.”
My dad shudders at this but Andrew continues on anyways.
“I love her. She isn’t your little girl anymore. She’s her own woman. And we’ve chosen each other.”
There’s pain in my dad’s eyes, and I think this is the hardest part for him. I’m growing up, and even though he’s known it, he’s tried to deny it until now. For just a moment I think that maybe he’ll come around, that maybe he’ll sit down and we can talk things out and mend things, but he shakes his head and storms out. My mom slides out of the booth.
“Honestly Noelle,” she chastises. “You know that your dad’s heart isn’t good these days. Why on earth would you try to do this to him?”
With that, she too gets up and goes after my father. I sit there, stunned. What’s going to happen to my family? Andrew sits back down in the booth too, and I turn into his chest and cry. I feel his arms wrap around me tightly, but even he can’t keep the pain from reaching my heart. The tears are coming fast, and my shoulders heave with every sob. I hear him say something to someone, and then he gently guides me up and out of the restaurant, his body shielding me from all the curious stares. I’m so glad he insisted on coming with me, because I don’t know if I could have managed all by myself.
Chapter 8
I try over the next few days to contact home, but they don’t pick up. When I try my dad’s cell phone, it goes straight to voice mail, as does my mom’s. I’m not one of those people who can wait around when there’s conflict. I want to hash it all out and get all the shouting and arguments over with so that we can all get along again. It’s the impatience in me. Every time I think about the situation, my stomach churns and I get all worked up again. But my parents made it clear they needed their space. Short of going over there in person and banging on their door (which might not get a response anyways), I have to wait it out.
My mom finally calls me back about a week later. I’m in the middle of trying to organize everything needed for a big wedding in a couple of months. Andrew’s incredibly busy at work right now, so he’s taken to saying ‘I’m fine with whatever you want’, which sounds good in theory, but in reality means that I’ve got nobody to agonize over the important decisions like who to invite and whether we should have a buffet style meal or a fixed menu.
“Mom,” I say with relief. “It’s good to hear your voice.”