The Hourglass

Twenty-Eight

I pull up to my Dad's and notice Adam's car is already there. I hope he hasn't been waiting too long, I think. I hadn't set an alarm to wake me up for dinner, but had thankfully woken up to Adam's text letting me know he was on his way to my Dad's. I sprinted around the apartment to brush my hair and put on my shoes before I rushed out the door. 

I checked the time on my phone and saw I was only ten minutes late, but I still felt guilty making Adam wait for me. I approached his car to tell him I was ready to go in. As I got closer, I realized it was empty. Panic set in as I realized he must already be inside talking with my dad. It's only ten minutes, I remind myself, trying to calm down. But that's ten minutes, and my dad could be interrogating Adam with a shotgun. Or worse, that's ten minutes that my dad could be showing Adam embarrassing childhood photos of me. 

I rush to the front door, and for once, I don't knock before entering. I head straight to the kitchen to find them sitting at the table, each drinking a beer. Both of their faces light up when they see me. "I win!" Adam exclaims.  

Dad looks at me with mock disappointment, "Rosebud, you let me down," he says, but it's lighthearted. The confusion is obvious on my face, and they laugh. 

"You normally knock when you visit your dad," Adam explains. "I bet him you wouldn't this time." Adam is beaming with joy at his victory. I'm red as a tomato. 

"Ah, I see," I say. "And what did we bet on?" I ask curiously.

"Five bucks," Dad says, sliding the five to Adam. They're laughing as Adam puts the five in his pocket, and I'm watching in disbelief at any of this. Adam must have made an amazing first impression, I think. 

"Well, I'm glad I can amuse you two. Sorry to break my streak on you, Dad." I say, teasing him. 

"Really, you've broken two streaks. It's a good thing we didn't bet on if you'd be on time," he laughs, and Adam laughs with him. 

"I fell asleep," I admit sheepishly. 

"Ah, I wore you out, taking you to the art gallery. I'm sorry," Adam apologizes sincerely and looks at me with affection. It doesn't go unnoticed by Dad, and I see him smile out of the corner of my eye, which only makes me feel more twilight-zoned. 

"Don't be," I tell him. "I had a great time. I guess I've just gotten a little too used to my desk job," I admit. 

Dad points at me, "I told you, you need to get out more." 

"Yes," I agree, "I'm beginning to understand that." We smile at each other, and Dad gets up to check the oven. "Make yourself comfortable, Roebud; dinner is nearly done."

I sit down at the table and feel uncomfortable but happy.  "It smells delicious, Dad. What did you make? Pot roast?" I guess. 

"Bingo," he says as he pulls the Dutch oven out of the stove. Dad already has the table set and a glass of water for me. He sets the dish on potholders in the middle of the table and begins to carve the meat up for everyone. When he's finished, and we all have food on the plate, it's time to say grace. 

I bow my head and close my eyes as Dad prays for our meal, "Lord, thank you for this food and this wonderful time that we have to spend together. May we be blessed and bless you as we have this meal together. Amen." 

When I look up, Adam smiles sweetly at me, and I don't feel embarrassed or uncomfortable anymore. But then, an image of Mom in the bathtub flashes into my mind. My smile falters just a little, and I can tell by a slight change in Adam's eyes that he noticed. I try to force the image out of my mind and display a face of bravado. Adam watches me carefully after that and I wonder if he'll put it together or not.