Before I left class, I had several people come up to me and thank me for sharing my dad's writing. I was touched. It was difficult to describe: the feeling of satisfaction I had. Besides, if nothing else, I'd gotten us all out of a final exam that would have surely left me with carpal tunnel syndrome. That alone was an accomplishment.
"Hey, SF," Trey smiled over his shoulder on the way out. "Let us buy you a drink or two."
As I said goodbye to Dr. Bovich and joined my friends headed for the warm May evening, I hesitated.
"I'll catch up in a minute. I've gotta call my dad."
Trey, Sal, Scarlett and Jenny exchanged looks of understanding and reverence. I sat at the back of my empty lecture hall and told my dad all about my—our—most extraordinary afternoon.
In less than a week, I was done with exams. I had survived my freshman year. I packed up my room alone, but I was OK.
I was going to be OK.
I didn't need anyone else to make me feel OK.
I went surfing one last time the next Wednesday morning. I got out and ran the beach until I couldn't breathe. And then I got on a plane, and went back home.
YOU ARE READING
The Beautiful Truth
RomanceSawyer Fitzgerald thought she knew the story of her now-divorced parents. It's colored her whole life thus far. Now in college, her English professor assigns her class to read the book that made her dad famous -- the one that he wrote for her mom ne...
