Firsts

First Cup Of Coffee

"You mean you've really never had the stuff?" my dad asks me. 

We're standing in line at Starbucks, about to get coffee. I shake my head. I've never had coffee, and it's kind of embarrassing.

"Well, maybe you should get a frappuccino to start with. There's a lot of sugar and cream in it."

"I also want some black coffee," I add. "Just to try."

Dad makes a face. 

"I drink mine with lots of sugar. I can't stand it black."

I grin. Soon enough, we're at the front of the line. We order, then stand back and wait some more. The conversation seems slow, so I figure now's as good a time as any to tell my dad about the interruption of our day together.

"I hope you don't mind, but I've invited Ashton to join us?"

Dad raises his eyebrows.

"I just figured I'd have him meet my dad, so he could feel uncomfortable and self conscious." 

Dad laughs, the barista hands us our order, and we go and sit down at the nearest table. A few minutes later, Ashton walks in in khakis, a light blue polo and dark blue bow tie, and nice dress shoes. I giggle at the sight of him all dressed up just to visit my dad, his teacher who he sees at school every day. My dad appears to read my mind and chortles, too. 

Ashton spies us at our table and walks over nervously, almost ripping on the way. I completely lose it, clinging to my dad's arm for support as I gasp for breath between my infectious laughter. Ashton frowns at us, clearly not amused. 

"It's not funny," he says.

"It kind of is," I argue, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

Ashton smiles at me. I laugh. He laughs. We both laugh. My dad clears his throat, causing us to look up, Ashton a little embarrassed.

"So, what are your intentions with my daughter?" he asks.

Ashton looks completely unphased. He answers cooly.

"Right now, I just want to have a healthy relationship. One filled with honesty, kindness, perspective, success, and love."

"Love?" My dad asks. "You guys are in love?"

I take Ashton's hand, nodding slowly. My dad looks like he doesn't know whether to scream and pull me out of the coffee shop or burst into tears. I give him a puzzled look.

"What's wrong with love?"

He seems to calm down as he answers.

"It's just so sudden, so soon. Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." 

Then I remember Mom's story. I suddenly understand. Young love brought about the death of my mother. Young love and the stress that comes from raising a child on your own, as well as extreme paranoia. 

"Don't worry, Dad," I assure him. "We aren't going to go and get married. I'm not going to raise a kid on my own. I'm not going to be like her, I promise."

"What happened?" Ashton asks, clearly confused.

I feel a fresh wave of guilt wash over me as I realize that I never shared my history with Ashton. I begin to speak, but quit when I see my dad's pale face. 

"W-well," I stammer. "I'll tell you about it later."

The words leave my mouth quickly, but I feel like each word I say about my mom is like stabbing a dagger through my dad's heart. He must feel so guilty. 

"So, how about that Mets game last night?" Ashton asks, attempting to make conversation. 

My dad immediately responds, complaining loudly about their new pitcher, and they're both surprised when I begin to contribute to the conversation. I smile at their dumbstruck faces. They were unaware of my sports knowledge. 

We all drink our coffee, talking about sports, funny stories, and, naturally, a little bit of math. Then, after laughing and talking, my dad and Ashton stand up very professionally, shake hands, and proceed to walk out the door. I follow behind, unsure of who to follow. My dad gave me a ride here, but am I supposed to ride with Ashton? My question is quickly answered.

"May I take Skylar home?" Ashton asks, gesturing towards me.

My dad nods.

"See you later, sweetie," he calls.

"Bye, Daddy," I return.

He smiles as he turns around. Ashton opens my door for me, and I get into the car. We pull out of the parking lot.

"Well, this went very well," I comment as we head down the road.

"Yes it did," he agrees. "You're dad's a great guy." 

"I know," I say. "That's why I forgave him."

Ashton sits there. Bringing up The Incident, as I've decided to call it, seems to have added an awkward air to the car.

"Can I turn on the radio?" I ask.

"Sure," he answers, looking relieved about my change of the conversation. 

I turn the dial until I hit a good song. I finally decide on a station playing "Chains" by Nick Jonas. Ashton begins to sing along, terribly off-key. 

"If you had sang like this at your Fiyero audition, there would have been absolutely no need for a call back," I tease.

"I didn't want to intimidate him too much," Ashton returns smoothly. 

I laugh as he continues his song. A few minutes later, I'm home. He pulls up to my house, goes around to open my door, gives me a quick kiss, and says goodbye. I practically skip to the front door, my heart happy, my steps light. 

I pry open the door, but close it softly, not wanting to alert anyone of my presence. It's no use. I find myself face to face with a pestering Annabelle, as well as at least a dozen questions from her mom. I sigh and roll my eyes. This is going to be such a long night.