Linear Shift, Part 1

Chapter 2

Peter sat in the cluttered living room, patiently listening to his fifteen-year-old daughter explain the multitude of reasons why she should have her nose pierced.

"Please, Dad?" Tori begged. "All my friends have theirs pierced... Becca even got her tongue pierced!"

"Tori, I don't care how many of your friends have piercings, or what parts of their bodies are pierced. You're not getting it done. When you turn eighteen, you can put as many holes in your body as you want." Peter sighed. "Until then, no holes."

"What about my ears, Dad? They have holes!" Tori pulled the long black hair away from her face and thrust one ear toward her dad.

Peter looked up and winced ever so slightly. He could never get used to the idea that Tori had chosen to dye her beautiful, naturally blond hair a solid jet black.

"Ears are different, Tori, and you know it. We've talked about this before, and you know where I stand on all the 'body art' that goes on these days." Peter used his fingers to make air quotes when he said 'body art.' He had an affinity for air quotes. "I will not have a child of mine, who lives under my roof, have any of that crap."

Tori sat in silence and glared at her father. She knew now that she should have listened to Becca. Becca had told her that her dad would never agree to it, and that she should just get it done. "It's better to ask for forgiveness than permission," she'd said. "The worst that could happen is you get grounded. And after that, you'll have your nose pierced!" Becca's words had rattled inside her head all afternoon.

"Mom would have let me get it done," Tori blurted out after several moments of silence. The words were out of her mouth before she could pull them back. The look on her dad's face was indescribable. He still found it hard to even hear her name without breaking down.

"Well, mom is not here, and I'm done talking about this."

"Well, I'm not!" shouted Tori. She said it loudly enough that her brother Brett opened his bedroom door and peeked out, but nobody noticed. "I'm fifteen years old, Dad. I get my license in eight months. You keep telling me that I'll have so much responsibility then. Why not let this happen now?"

Peter glared at his daughter with that look that only a single father can muster, then walked into the kitchen. Tori didn't follow.

As Peter started making dinner, his mind replayed their argument. He wondered if he had been right to be so firm with Tori. He seemed to be asking that question of himself more and more lately. Ever since his Minnie had died, both of the kids had pulled away. And to a certain extent, he felt they resented him—simply because it wasn't him that had died in the car crash. Neither of them had come out and said it, but Peter could feel the truth by the way they both looked and reacted toward him.

After standing in front of an open fridge for far too long, he pushed the thoughts from his mind and returned to making dinner.

* * *

Conversation at the dinner table was practically nonexistent. Tori barely touched the spaghetti. She just sat in her chair, sulking and pushing her food from one side of her plate to the other.

Brett, on the other hand, had no problems eating. He scarfed in silence, and as he neared the bottom of his plate, he just as silently stood to clear his place. Not a single word by either of them.

Peter was okay with the silence. As tense as he and Tori had been an hour earlier, he knew it was best for everyone to simmer down a bit.