The Class Agreement

1

"Nova, I made you some lunch for your first day back."

My Dad closes the dented refrigerator door. I smile at him as he cleans the kitchen.

A hollow feeling fills my heart. He's been trying his best since Mom died. Trying to play the role of a mother figure and father figure. I can't imagine raising a nineteen-year-old kid on your own — I know it isn't easy. He tells me it's not so bad cause I'm already a young adult.

I'm capable of making most decisions on my own. It's true, but I know it hurts him. It hurts us both.

His muscle shirt and baggy pajama pants make a funny combo. His newly shaved hair still makes me laugh to myself just cause his head looks way bigger now. He's one of the big muscular guys whose super soft on the inside. He doesn't look a day over thirty-five at forty-five years old and it sucks to say, but now that he's a widow, plenty of women are thrilled and waiting to get their hands on him.

"Trust me I won't forget it," I said packing my black messenger bag on top of our wooden kitchen table. "This new block scheduling means longer classes. Which means I'm gonna be starving."

He paused cleaning the kitchen counter, "I gave you a good amount of everything in there. Low carbs, protein, grain — all the good stuff. Pack some water bottles too. Stay hydrated."

"I'm going to school not on a hike," I laughed. "I do appreciate it though."

"I packed you that cause I want you to stay energized today. High school sucks and so does hour-long classes. Hell, take some of my coffee if you want."

I finished packing my bag and snapped it shut. I threw it over my shoulder and smiled, "You know what? You're absolutely right, Dad. Thank you. I'll pass on the coffee though."

"Suit yourself. By the time you get home, I'll be at work. Text me when you get back okay? If anything happens just call me. No speed—"

"Dad. I'll be fine, alright? I know the past is ... not very bright, but I can handle it now. Therapy really helped."

His green eyes look into my soul, it feels like. I see the pain and anxiety in them. I know he's worried. I'm gonna do my best this year, I really am. I would hate to put more stress on him.

He spoke quietly, "Promise?"

I nodded and gripped the strap over my shoulder, "Promise. We're gonna get through this year in one piece. You and I."

"That's what I'm talkin' about. Now get your lunch and scram. Don't need you on a tardy streak this year either."

I walked up to my six-foot Mr. Mom and hugged him. He hugs me back, kissing the top of my head and lingering for just a few seconds. He's only taller than me by two inches.

I eventually leave the house and get in my cherry red Honda Civic that was originally my Mom's. I'll never forget when they first gave it to me. They got it freshly painted and even added a spoiler on to it. They always tried to be supportive of my love for cars. I've been taking good care of this bad boy ever since I got it.

Ever since I lost my mother I've gotten more careful with it. I feel like it's one of the only things I have left of her that I can call my own. I don't know how I'm going to handle it emotionally when it officially breaks down and I can no longer drive it. The thought just makes me sad.

My hands grip the steering wheel a little harder than normal. I focus on the crowded streets. The 7 AM morning rush is something I still haven't gotten used to all these years. I'm always paranoid about potential car crashes and stupid fender benders when it's like this.