Bad Girl

chp. 7

It was late afternoon on Sunday when I finally got around to washing my mom's car. Dad popped outside now and then to putter around the yard. When he wasn't at work fixing other people's computers he was tinkering around the house doing his "handy man" routine.

I watched as he dragged a piece of lumber from the back of the house to the front. What he was going to do with it was beyond me and now I was curious. I stopped washing and watched as he pulled it onto a patch of grass and checked it for nails. It was like watching one of those videos on National Geographic. I could even hear the quiet British voice in the background.

He looked at both ends of the wood and tapped both ends with the hammer. I never saw anyone do that on the few renovating shows I got sucked into watching with mom. When he was done with his tapping he rubbed the wood again, another search for nails I guessed. Finding none he grabbed it from the center and stood up then turned around to walk in my direction, toward the garage.

My eyes widened when I realized where the other end of the lumber was swinging.

"Dad, watch out!" He stopped and turned towards me quickly making the wood swing in the other direction. So instead of one end smashing into the window the other crashed into the light above the garage door. We both winced and looked up at the broken light then down at the glass.

He needed to stick to his day job.

"What are you doing dad?" I grabbed a broom from the garage as he gingerly lowered the wood.

"I wanted to make one of those deep frames for your mom. She was reading one of those home magazines and started to whine about it." He looked around suddenly to check that she wasn't in hearing range. "You know how she can get."

I laughed and had to agree. Mom liked to get in her decorating moods and we could all get swept away in it. Dad grabbed a piece of cardboard, since the pan was forever missing in our house, and we cleaned up the mess. He stood up and studied the broken light. I could almost hear his thoughts and decided to stop it before he got more ideas.

"I'll call the guy mom used for the bathroom, dad. Don't worry about it." He looked at me and laughed. I rolled my eyes as he shoved the wood to the edge of the driveway.

"When're we gonna play some basketball? You're always so busy now." His thick, lowered eye brows made him look angry. I knew that it was a pout though.

"Oh so you can beat me again and again?"

"Well if you don't play you can't get better, then you can't beat me." He ruffled my hair as I stood up. "And why you wearing these little shorts out here?" I flicked water at him as he frowned at my shorts.

"It's hot and I like these." He frowned as he leaned against the car.

"You're not home so much now." I shrugged and leaned against the car too. It was true so I wasn't going to deny it. It wasn't like when I was younger; we'd play basketball all the time or I'd practically shadow him when he wandered around the house getting into trouble.

"I'm home today."

"You weren't yesterday." I nodded my head and felt my heartbeat speed up. It was right there. My confession. I looked at my dad and felt my eyes begin to water. It was what you didn't know that scared you half to death. I didn't know if he'd still love me when he found out about the real me.

"Do you love me dad?" I didn't know that that question would pop out but it did. He looked at me and really looked at my face. His arms were around me in a second.

"You know I do," he hugged me then stepped back. "Where's this coming from?"

"No matter what you love me right?" He framed my face with his hands and looked directly into my eyes.