December '97
Kareena is 15
"You know dad, I feel like you're setting me up for failure. The only thing you've told is that her name is Gabriella."
"Gabrielle," he corrected.
"What's the girl's name?"
"Her daughter's name is Rue."
I slipped into my black flats with a smirk. "I'm gonna rue this dinner."
Dad tugged at his tie. "Kareena, I swear to god—"
"Yeah, yeah, I'll keep the jokes to myself."
"Don't yeah me. This is an important step."
I scoffed. "What—do you luuuv her now?"
But he didn't answer.
I spun around. "Dad?"
"Yes, I love her," he said seriously.
"What?" I laughed. "Why?"
"She's kind, Kareena. Intellectual. Extremely caring. Those are traits to value and fall in love with."
I rolled my eyes. "Dad, like, half of people are like that."
"That's generous," he said.
"I was trying to be optimistic."
"Since when?"
"Dad you can't just love someone! I don't get it!"
"It didn't happen overnight, Kareena."
"Kinda feels like it!"
Dad vaguely gestured to the front door. "If you're going to act like a child, go wait in the car."
"No."
"We're not debating this. Go."
"No!"
"I've had enough petulance for the night. Go wait in the car while I find—"
"Or what—I can't go to dinner? You'll ground me again?" I kicked off my flats and threw them across the living room. "Guess I'm grounded!" I shouted before bounding upstairs.
"Kareena!" Dad ran after me, but I slammed my bedroom door before he got there.
Our angry breaths were separated by the thin wood and nothing more.
Tears sprung to my eyes. I hated it—the feelings, the noise, the scratchy throat. I hated it every time.
I reached for the door, but I froze. I closed my fist instead, wondering if he was doing the same. My lip trembled when the first tears fell.
"I hate you," I said.
I waited for him to say something. Anything. Yell or scream or cry. I waited for him to open the door and hug me. Instead, his steps were slow down the stairs.
His voice was quiet on the phone: We couldn't make it because I had food poisoning; We'd have to reschedule; And he was really, really sorry.
YOU ARE READING
Blame The Weeds (gxg)
Teen FictionI reached for her face, guided her down to kiss me. We were slow. I absorbed every detail - the cut of her cheeks, the trio of larger freckles near her chin, the fair sheets of lashes like spun gold around her green eyes. I did everything I could t...
