Daddy Dearest

Chapter Seven

I’m sitting next to Charlie in his father’s Escalade, parked in front of our house. Normally, I would have been out of the car and halfway across my front yard already, but these days, things haven’t been so easygoing between us. There’s a tension now that hadn’t been there before and it’s keeping me inside the car like I’m tethered to it. I clear my throat and shift in my seat to make myself more comfortable.

"Did you have a good weekend?" Charlie asks before I can say anything. Both of his hands are on the steering wheel and he is staring straight ahead. 

I look at his profile, then down at my hands. He really is very handsome, with this square jaw and high cheekbones. I wish I felt the same way for him as he does for me. "Yeah, of course. I always have a great time with your family. I love hanging out with you guys."

His fingers appear to tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He's still not looking at me. "Listen, Mel, I need to talk to you about something. It's been weighing on my mind for a while now..."

This time, I'm the one who holds my breath and everything in me clenches up. He’s about to tell me he’s in love with me or something. I know he is. This sensation has been an unwanted tag-along whenever he and I were alone for months now. The second no one else is around, I become hyper-aware that Charlie is suddenly standing a little too close to me or he’s touching me a lot more or his voice changes, so that it’s deeper and almost whispery, as though it were meant for my ears alone.

Charlie and I have been friends since we were in pre-school. We’ve been almost inseparable since then. Our parents have stories of us clinging to each other and wailing, when it came time for us to go to our own homes. We held hands as we walked around the hallways of our schools. The nuns and school administrators had to talk to our parents more than once that our attachment to each other was unusual and unhealthy.

But we were just so much alike and got along so well that we didn’t need anyone else. I had a bond with Charlie that was tighter than he had with his own twin. Lottie was even resentful and jealous of me until we started including her in everything.

"What is it?" I ask, even though my body is heavy with dread and I'm almost afraid to take a breath for fear of upsetting the status quo.

He shakes his head and doesn't say anything for a while, so I start to wonder if maybe he's changed his mind and the tension in my stomach eases a little. Just as I am reaching for the car door, he expels a mouthful of air and blurts out, "Do you have a crush on my dad?"

Wow, that's unexpected. I feel all at once like a bucket of ice has been upended over my head, while I've got a blow-dryer on high heat blasting the side of my face. My insides have been emptied with a dirty trowel and replaced with wet spaghetti. I want to throw up. I want to slap Charlie and scream in his face. I never want to see him again.

Somehow, I manage to keep my cool and hopefully, my emotions off my face. "That's nasty, Charlie. Why would you say that?" I sound appropriately disturbed, but not hysterical. Point for me.

He shrugs, looking slightly alarmed and embarrassed, as though he just realized he may have just stuck his foot in his mouth. "I don't know... It's just the way you look at him sometimes, like he's so great or whatever—and when you two talk about his books. It's just kind of gross. Girls and teachers at school look at him like that, like he's so hot and brilliant. It's just... really gross."

I sigh a little bit in relief. "Charlie, that's because your dad is brilliant. He's a really wonderful writer. You know I want to be a writer myself, so I look up to your dad. I don't know about the way other people look at him, but it's not like I want to bone him or anything." I grab his arm and give it a squeeze. "Dude, he's practically my dad."