Almond Boy

Almond Boy - 28

Her dad noticed Emma's acting weird.

He watches as she sat on the couch, smiling to herself. She was unable to eat anything at dinner, but she had this grin on her face the whole time.

He knew who had done this. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. On one hand, let her experience everything. Let her be happy. Stopping her from living life could be what kills her.

On the other hand, it really is hard to watch your baby girl grow up. Especially when she is beaming about some guy who, in theory, could die in a week.

Is this really a good idea?

"How was group?"

"Not the greatest, but it'll be okay."

"How were your other extracurriculars?"

It was that comment that told Emma that he knew. At first, her cheeks flushed, but then, she gave him this huge smile. A smile he hadn't seen in a very long time.

He decides it's good. For now, anyways.

He walks over, pats the wheezing machine that is Stitch, and sits next to Emma. He wraps his arm around her and squeezes her tight. She laughs.

"Hey daddy-o."

"Hey, penny." He rubs her arms and squeezes her again. She laughs.

"How was your day?"

"How was yours?" he responds, his eyebrows raised.

Emma purses her lips and blushes. "It was good."

"Do I need to get out my shotgun?" he asks, puffing out his chest. Emma rolls her eyes.

"Dad, you don't have a shotgun."

"I could. You don't know everything about me, Emma. I could be this super-spy, capable of anything."

Emma laughs and grabs onto his arm. "Or you could be the retired basketball player accountant dad that I know and love."

"I am not retired. I still play basketball."

Emma laughs. "That's right."

"That's right," he agrees. "He's a good young man. I'm not worried."

"You're not?"

It wouldn't shock her if he was worried. She's sick. He's sick. I mean, it's kind of a mess. She's trying not to think about that, but it's the truth - it's a bit more complicated than what it looks like.

"Well, I am. But I'm always worried."

He leans his elbows on his knees, before rubbing his face. Then he returns his attention to Emma.

Emma furrows her eyebrows. Shaking her head, she asks, "How in the world did you know so fast?"

Her dad scoffs and puts his hand against his chest. "It's the same starstruck look your mom had when I kissed her the first time," he gloats.

Emma slaps him in the arm and he laughs. "Shut up," she says.

Ruffling her hair, he pulls her over and kisses the top of her head. "You laugh, but I'm not kidding."

"Mom says that the first time you were going to kiss her you tripped and fell on your face."

"She did not tell you that," he says. "Jane, you did not tell our daughter that!" he yells back at his wife.

"Tell our daughter what!?" she yells back.

He rolls his eyes. "She did not tell you that."

Emma nods, though, with a wry smile on her face. "She laughed because you were supposed to be this smooth basketball player and you were a complete moron around her, she says."