P.S. I Still Love You(94)

Daddy throws his dish towel over his shoulder and marches in place. In a deep voice he baritones, “You need someone older and wiser telling you what to do . . .”

“This song is sexist,” Kitty says as I dip her.

“Indeed it is,” Daddy agrees, swatting her with the towel. “And the boy in question was not, in fact, older and wiser. He was a Nazi in training.”

Kitty skitters away from both of us. “What are you guys even talking about?”

“It’s from The Sound of Music,” I say.

“You mean that movie about the nun? Never seen it.”

“How have you seen The Sopranos but not The Sound of Music?”

Alarmed, Daddy says, “Kitty’s been watching The Sopranos?”

“Just the commercials,” Kitty quickly says.

I go on singing to myself, spinning in a circle like Liesl at the gazebo. “I am sixteen going on seventeen, innocent as a rose. . . . Fellows I meet may tell me I’m sweet, and willingly I believe. . . .”

“Why would you just willingly believe some random fellows you don’t even know?”

“It’s the song, Kitty, not me! God!” I stop spinning. “Liesl was kind of a ninny, though. I mean, it was basically her fault they almost got captured by the Nazis.”

“I would venture to say it was Captain von Trapp’s fault,” Daddy says. “Rolfe was a kid himself—he was going to let them go, but then Georg had to antagonize him.” He shakes his head. “Georg von Trapp, he had quite the ego. Hey, we should do a Sound of Music night!”

“Sure,” I say.

“This movie sounds terrible,” Kitty says. “What kind of name is Georg?”

We ignore her. Daddy says, “Tonight? I’ll make tacos al pastor!”

“I can’t,” I say. “I’m going over to Belleview.”

“What about you, Kitty?” Daddy asks.

“Sophie’s mom is teaching us how to make latke cakes,” Kitty says. “Did you know that you put applesauce on top of them and it’s delicious?”

Daddy’s shoulders slump. “Yes, I did know that. I’m going to have to start booking you guys a month in advance.”

“Or you could invite Ms. Rothschild over,” Kitty suggests. “Her weekends are pretty lonely too.”

He gives her a funny look. “I’m sure she has plenty she’d rather do than watch The Sound of Music with her neighbor.”

Brightly I say, “Don’t forget the tacos al pastor! Those are a draw, too. And you, of course. You’re a draw.”

“You’re definitely a draw,” Kitty pipes up.

“Guys,” Daddy begins.

“Wait,” I say. “Let me just say one thing. You should be going on some dates, Daddy.”

“I go on dates!”

“You’ve gone on, like, two dates ever,” I say, and he falls silent. “Why not ask Ms. Rothschild out? She’s cute, she has a good job, Kitty loves her. And she lives really close by.”

“See, that’s exactly why I shouldn’t ask her out,” Daddy says. “You should never date a neighbor or a coworker, because then you’ll have to keep seeing them if things don’t work out.”

Kitty asks, “You mean like that quote ‘Don’t shit where you eat’?” When Daddy frowns, Kitty quickly corrects herself. “I mean ‘Don’t poop where you eat.’ That’s what you mean, right, Daddy?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s what I mean, but Kitty, I don’t like you using cuss words.”

Contritely she says, “I’m sorry. But I still think you should give Ms. Rothschild a chance. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out.”

“Well, I’d hate to see you get your hopes up,” Daddy says.

“That’s life,” Kitty says. “Things don’t always work out. Look at Lara Jean and Peter.”

I give her a dirty look. “Gee, thanks a lot.”

“I’m just trying to make a point,” she says. Kitty goes over to Daddy and puts her arms around his waist. This kid is really pulling out all the stops. “Just think about it, Daddy. Tacos. Nuns. Nazis. And Ms. Rothschild.”

He sighs. “I’m sure she has plans.”

“She told me if you asked her out, she’d say yes,” I blurt out.