My Mom & My Dad

Chapter 2: The Third Time

Emily:

Two Friday afternoons had passed after my "accident" that led to Mom's new job working for Oliver Queen. Mom and I ran into him and his son Stephen three times. Coincidence? Guess not. Those guys were ready for us. The first time, they were back at the basketball court near the playground where we usually spent the afternoons.

"Hello!" Oliver called out, waving his hand at my mom.

"Haaeee!" I hollered back for my mom, who just smiled and waved back at him.

When I got tired of playing and Mom decided we would head back home early so I could rest, we packed away. Mom carried our bag and walked with my hand in hers towards the guys, and said, "We're heading home now. I'd like to thank you again, Mr. Queen, for... you know... my new job."

"You're welcome, Ms. Smoak."

"Oh, just call me Felicity."

"Okay, if you promise to call me Oliver instead of Mr. Queen."

"But you're my boss."

"In the office, maybe. Out here, it's just Oliver," he said with a warm smile.

"All right, then, Oliver it is," Mom agreed.

The second time, the guys brought chicken sandwiches and orange juice, for us four. Stephen helped his dad spread out a picnic blanket with red and white squares – like those you see on TV. My mom was quiet the entire time. She had a smile on her lips, but her eyes... her eyes didn't seem happy. And if I hadn't known better, I'd say she was trying to avoid Oliver's glances. I wondered why. The soft "thank you for a wonderful picnic" was all I heard her say to them when the afternoon was over.

Stephen:

After that second encounter, Dad and I packed away the picnic stuff as Felicity and Emily left. Felicity had been quiet during the picnic, and my dad had been the one telling stories and fooling around with Emily and me. I could tell he was trying to keep things light, but yeah, in between stories and sandwiches, I couldn't count the number of times he had glanced her way. As we walked back to the car in the parking lot, I noticed Dad had been totally silent. Not a word. I decided to break the ice.

"What's up, Dad? You've been awfully quiet."

"Huh? Did you say something?"

"I asked you if everything's okay. You haven't said a word since the girls left."

"Oh. Everything's fine. I'm just a little tired, that's all."

Liar. As far back as I could remember, I could tell when my dad wasn't telling the truth: When he and Mom had a fight, and he'd say everything's okay. When a business deal had gone wrong, and I'd overhear him tell Mom that everything's fine. When Mom started losing her hair coz of chemo, he had said, "We're gonna be fine." Every single time he'd hold back the truth, he had this look on his face.

That was the look right there. Eyes narrowed. Check. Crease between the eyebrows. Check. A faint smile as the corner of his lips twitched. Yup. Almost unnoticeable shrugging of shoulders. Definitely there.

"If you say so," I said. "I just thought that maybe you're a bit disappointed, that's all."

"What? Why would I be disappointed?"

"Well, you went through all the trouble making sandwiches and throwing a picnic, but she didn't say a thing. Except maybe the 'thank you' before they left."

"Who?"

"You know who. Felicity!"

"Stephen," my dad's facial expression began to change. The crease disappeared and the twitching of the corner of his lips stopped. "She's a very nice person, and--"