The Beautiful Truth

// 69

My dad, so far, had no idea I was writing a new screenplay based on his novel (and unpublished epilogue), but for the first 48 hours of my Spring Break, I stayed holed up in my room trying to write the last scene due to Dr. Bovich by the end of the semester.

By Sunday afternoon, my dad was suspicious. He poked his head in my door—having taken a break from his own writing—to check on me.

"Sawyer, um, is everything OK?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice about three octaves too high, mirroring his expression as I looked up from my laptop, sitting cross-legged on my bed. "Why?"

My dad pushed the door open wider and wrinkled his nose. "Really? I have to say it?"

I knew exactly what he meant, and I was actually grateful he'd waited this long to bring it up. I couldn't say it, though; I insisted on playing dumb.

Kerry Fitzgerald rolled his eyes and sighed in what I'm sure most people would imagine is a poor imitation of me. I knew, though, that I'd gotten this from him...and dramatized it as only a teenage girl could.

Any other time, I would've laughed, but as it was, I was afraid of what he'd say next and briefly fantasized about crawling out my window.

"Uh, Say," he began with that heart-crushing nickname. "Did something happen with you and Talyn?"

I felt my face go white; it was like he already knew.

That's dumb, I reminded myself. I didn't even tell him I'd seen him when...

"I mean, Sawyer, honey...the whole country knows he was in Berkeley last weekend, and being that I know you two, I know you saw each other..."

I'd never told my dad anything about boys before...not that there was anything to tell. At one point, I had liked to daydream telling my mom about whomever was my latest crush, but again...not much to tell. My dad knew about Barton, and he probably suspected that I was in love, but he didn't know the details. And he certainly didn't know about Jason Mandrino.

I wouldn't let myself cry. I'd promised myself to cry it all out that Saturday Talyn was in Berkeley to...Ah. I couldn't bear the thought.

My dad just looked at me, as if he was considering what to do next.

"He kissed me," I heard come out with my next breath.

We stared at each other for a second. I had no idea what look I had on my face, but my dad didn't seem so much surprised by what I said, but that I'd said it at all.

He cautiously sat down, sliding his back down the wall where he'd been leaning. I toppled over on my side, holding my pillow in the fetal position and slowly the story trickled out. Not just the part about last weekend, but all the way back to Jason Mandrino at Thanksgiving, and what Talyn and I said at the Cotton Bowl...visiting USC...and then I was talking about Barton, and what it was like meeting someone who just...understood me from day one, and what it was like to fall in love with him...and watch him go chase his dreams. And then back to last weekend and how God-awful miserable I was, now that I had finally admitted to myself that I loved two people.

Two entirely different people. In entirely different ways.

"Every time we fall in love, it's different, Sawyer," he finally spoke.

"But you've only loved one woman," I whispered.

"Kerry Fitzgerald smirked. "Well now, that's not true. Believe it or not, I loved your mom, too..." he let his sentence trail off. "This isn't about me, though," he smiled softly, the sympathy thick in his voice. "What do you want, Sawyer?"

I scoffed and he rolled his eyes again. Both of us knew that was why I was so messed up. I didn't know what I wanted. Except...

"I want things to be the way they were," I whispered to no one in particular.

My dad seemed lost in his own memories for a second. "Take it from me, kid: the only thing you can do now...is figure out where you're gonna go from here."

I stared at the light blue paint of my walls for a while. My dad stared out the window. It would take days before I realized that he wasn't just going for some token parental advice. He really knew what he was talking about.