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I twist out of his grip. Trying to get me in bed, maybe. Since my body doesn’t seem to want anyone except Beck, his chances have only gotten worse. “Go eat your pizza, Williams.”
Sandra continues to ask most of the questions as we find a table and order food. People stop by our table periodically, and each time someone does, I experience a flash of annoyance and pride.
Annoyance, because it’s one more person who’s made a mention of my performance today aside from my father, who supposedly drove over a thousand miles to see it. Pride, because the surprised, delighted expression on his face every time someone stops makes it pretty clear he’s impressed.
He doesn’t know how to tell me he’s proud of me. I’ve purposefully made it hard for him, as some twisted penance for all the years he wasn’t around to say anything at all. He made sure there was food in the fridge. Drove us to the mall to get new clothes. If I hadn’t gotten a full ride here, he would have paid for my college the way he did for Hallie’s. But he was never there. Never present. Never engaged. I don’t know when that started to change, but it was long after I’d become accustomed to his absence. Years after I’d learned to live my life parent-less.
We finish our early dinner and then start walking back to the soccer field’s parking lot. Right as we reach the edge of campus, my father finally addresses me directly.
“Saylor, could I talk to you for a moment?”
“Sure.” I halt, noticing Sandra has slowed to read the plaque on the side of the English building.
Fluent in social cues, my friends say their goodbyes and then keep walking toward the parking lot.
“I…” My dad clears his throat.
I drag my gaze up from the leaves beginning to coat the brick pathway to his face.
“I just wanted to tell you how fantastic you were today, honey. I can’t believe—I can’t believe I’d never seen you play before. It was—you are—extraordinary.”
There was a time—a very recent time—when I would have replied with some harsh words. Maybe a pointed What can’t you believe?
There wasn’t a damn thing keeping him from attending one of the hundreds of soccer games I’ve played in.
He wasn’t deployed overseas. He wasn’t working three jobs to support Hallie and me.
He was locked in his study, drinking scotch. Or at some fancy restaurant in Savannah with a twenty-six-year-old.
I’m bitter about that. Maybe I always will be.
But…I’m also sick of carrying the anger and bitterness around.
“Thanks, Dad.” I scuff the toe of my sneaker against some dead leaves, causing them to crinkle. “And, uh, thanks for coming.”
“Of course,” he replies.
There’s no of course about it, but I don’t say that either.
Sandra catches up with us and smiles at me. “What a beautiful campus. You must love it here, Saylor.”
“Yeah, I do,” I respond. “Emma drove. So I should…” I jerk my thumb toward the parking lot, where my friends are waiting for me. “Are you guys staying for long?”
“No,” Sandra answers. “I have to be back for school on Monday.” She’s a teacher, I recently learned. Guess that’s why she was so stunned by my disinterest in academics. “We’ll drive back tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, okay,” I respond. The round-trip drive will last longer than the time they’ve spent here.
“We can stop by in the morning before we leave?” my father suggests. “Hallie gave me your address.”
Of course she did.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I reply. “I’ll be up early for practice anyway.”
“Okay,” my father says. “We’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Okay,” I repeat. “Night.”
I turn and head for the parking lot. No one says anything as I climb into the car. Emma starts driving around the sports complex, then turns onto one of the side roads that leads back to our house.
