The Art of Losing(72)

At the deli, Dad pointed toward two seats at the counter despite the multiple open tables. He usually ate here alone on workdays, so maybe it was habit. Or maybe it was so he wouldn’t have to look at me when we had the awkward discussion I knew was coming. At least he was feeding me while he lectured.

After we ordered, he got right to business.

“So your mom told me about what Audrey and Mike did.”

I wasn’t surprised. Mom told Dad everything, like when Audrey and I got our periods or when she found out I was having sex and she took me to the doctor for birth control pills. He just usually didn’t let on that he knew. It was easier on us all that way.

“Pretty shitty thing to do, huh?” I said.

I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye, but I kept my gaze on the milkshake blender across the counter in front of us.

“I just wanted to make sure you know that not all relationships, not all men, are like Mike.” He cleared his throat. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell Audrey about it?”

My head snapped sideways so I could look at him. “Do you think I should?”

He sighed. “I don’t know, kid. It’s your choice, but you have a tendency to bottle everything up and ignore it. And I just want you to know that you don’t have to do that. Not with this one. I don’t want a Hulk situation happening. I like you the size and color you are.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “She-Hulk is quite respectable, despite her green skin. Don’t be racist.”

Now Dad laughed. “Did I ever tell you who I would be if I could be a superhero?”

I shook my head.

“Aluminum Man. So I could foil crime.”

I groaned. “That was bad. One of your worst, I think.”

He smiled proudly to himself.

Luckily, our sandwiches arrived then, so he was too busy eating for a few minutes to tell any more jokes.

“So, how’s our friend Rafael?” Dad asked. “Has he figured anything out yet?”

“What do you mean?” I said, stealing an onion ring off his plate. He reciprocated by stealing a fry off mine.

“I mean, last you told me, he was trying to figure things out. And you two were just friends. So, how’s that going?”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “He doesn’t want to see me anymore.”

“What?” he said. “Why?”

I took a bite of my sandwich so I had time to think. I didn’t know how much I could actually share with him without him getting uncomfortable with it. Or telling Raf’s parents. But I decided to chance it.

“Don’t tell Mom,” I said, pointing a French fry at him.

He nodded solemnly. Unlike Mom, he actually would keep a secret.

“Raf and I kissed, as you know, and I told him it was too soon for me after Mike,” I said, my eyes glued to my sandwich. “And then he got drunk. And now he says it’s too soon for him.”

Dad was quiet, so I chanced a look at him. His face was completely neutral, and I could see how hard he was working to keep it that way.

“So?” I said. “You must have an opinion.”

He thought for a few more seconds. “My opinion is that you’re a smart cookie. You’re thoughtful, and you don’t often jump into things. So a little time to figure things out can’t hurt.”

My heart sank. I’d been hoping he would tell me just to go for it with Raf. I wanted permission to forget about his faults, to forget about the possibility that he might drink again. That he might break my heart.

“But Raf is a good kid,” he added. “I’ve always thought so. And from what I see, he and Mike are two very different people. But maybe Raf isn’t so sure that you know that.”

I glanced at him, surprised, but maybe Dad was right, and he needed to hear me say that. I opened my mouth to tell him how smart he was, but Dad had already moved on.

“So did you hear about the time the old man and his wife were pulled over by a state trooper?” he said.

“Nope,” I said, even though I had heard this joke at least four thousand times. “What happened?”

I texted Raf a few times throughout the afternoon, even going so far as to call him once, but he didn’t answer. And even though I knew that I should probably give him space, I didn’t want to. I was tired of pulling away and tired of not saying how I felt or doing things the way I wanted to.

So as the sun finally began to set, I walked through the backyard, up to his basement door, and knocked. My stomach tied itself into a crisp bow while I waited for him to answer. After a minute, the blinds twitched and he peered out at me. I could see his shadow shaking its head before he opened the door.

“Hey,” he said. He was in loose sweatpants and a T-shirt. There was paint smeared across his chest and along his arms.

“Hi.” I tried to take a step farther inside, but he didn’t back up. I got the message. “How are you?” I said cautiously.

He looked a little sheepish. “Okay. I spent a full day in bed. And then I went to a meeting. Picked up a twenty-four-hour chip. And I told Elaine that I was ready to work the steps. She’s going to be my sponsor again.”

I smiled, relieved. “That’s great, Raf. I’m really glad.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “About the other night. I shouldn’t have woken you up. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk. Or blamed you for it. There were a dozen reasons I got drunk, and this thing with us, it’s just a drop in the bucket.” He looked at me, then looked away. “I hate that you saw me like that.”