CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jack and I don’t attend the homecoming dance the next day. He keeps telling me we can go, but I’m not that into it. My dad has volunteered to chaperone, something the football coaches do. Alicia promises to keep my father in line. I’d actually love to see her achieve that feat. But Jack has other plans. Other plans sound more fun.
Lily drops off an outfit for me to wear on my and Jack’s first official date, our homecoming. Her only comment: “Make sure the shirt gets dirty. You’ll want it for a souvenir.” Like I’m supposed to know what that means.
I don’t know where we’re going or what we’re doing. This is driving me mad. My outfit for the evening festivities consists of a black t-shirt from Target and used jean overalls. One of the buckles on the bib won’t stay fastened, so I let it flop. The tags left on the overalls reveal the denim came from Jillian’s Second Time Around. Gaby is in on this. I’m surprised there aren’t shoes to match. I slip on my black high-tops and enter the kitchen.
“Hijita.” Mr. Morales looks up from a large pot of soup.
“That smells good, Benny. What is it?”
My father’s head snaps at my words. My dad looks at me, and then to Mr. Morales.
“What?” I ask, looking at my father, and then I turn to Benny. Who knows what I’m doing wrong now.
Benny shrugs. Maybe Benny’s in trouble.
“She—” my father points at me. “The teenager—she’s allowed to call you Benny? And I, the adult, need to call you Mr. Morales? Perfect.”
I turn on one heel and leave the room. I don’t go far. I want to hear the exchange. I don’t want my presence known. A trait from my mom: it’s not a good one. She knows it and I know it, but it doesn’t make it better. We still eavesdrop.
“I told you, Joel, you can call me Dad, Papa, Padre. You didn’t like any of those. You chose Mr. Morales.”
“You’re not my dad,” my father agues. “Why does she get to call you Benny?” Wow, my dad is acting like a spoiled little brat. I’d like to get this on tape and use it at a later date when he’s accusing me of doing the same.
“And what would you suggest your daughter call me? Grandpa? She’s not comfortable with that,” Benny says, his voice calm and soft.
My father doesn’t answer. It’s not like he can go off on his father-in-law. I wish I could see my father’s face. I shouldn’t have left the room. But then again, what if they decide I should call Benny grandpa? Then I’m screwed. Maybe I should leave.
“You want it all, Joel. You want your daughter to accept your new life, including your new family, yet you don’t even know where you stand in all of it. Your daughter has a mother and, from what you’ve shared, Kristin’s a fantastic mother. But you and I, we’ve made mistakes. Trust me, healing takes time.”
Wow. I stand there waiting for my dad to respond. He doesn’t. Benny stands firm and on my side. Or at least he’s willing to let me be me. He’s not going to push me into anything. He gets it. In fact, I think gets me.
I walk back into the kitchen like I haven’t heard anything. I want to see my father’s reaction. Benny puts his arm around me. “Patience and love. We just need to figure out who the dragons are in our lives. Right, Mazzie?”
I look at my dad, tilt my head, and cock my eyebrow, waiting for an answer. Because I don’t think this question is actually for me. And if it is, I don’t care. My father’s the one who messed everything up to begin with.
Now it’s his turn to leave the room, which he does.
“By the way, I never told him he couldn’t call me Benny,” Mr. Morales whispers.
The pot is filled with meatballs and potatoes, smelling of mint. The aroma fills the room. Before I leave for my date, Benny fills a warm tortilla with the mixture. I dip the tortilla into a bowl of the hot liquid, as Benny instructs.
“I think I need to bring Jack back for food,” I say.
Jack’s truck remains in Kentucky. His stepmom will drive it to Colorado in the spring when she and his dad move here. He won’t tell me what he drives. Which means it’s probably a Ford. I need to tell him I can’t date a boy who drives a Ford. Sorry, but once a Chevy girl, always a Chevy girl.