I made a face. “Impossible.” Yeah, part of me wanted to snap and be nasty but not to him. The reason it hurt so much anyway was because I hurt for him.
He did the more mature parental equivalent of making a face right back. “Right back at you.”
Dad nodded his head at something across from him in the stable. I grabbed what I was pretty sure was a saddle or perhaps a very weird hat and brought it to him.
“I only met her a few times,” I told Dad. “You knew her better, liked her. Enough to introduce her to me. That’s what’s making me sad, so we should think about you now.”
“Okay, let’s stop debating who has jurisdiction here,” he said, fiddling with the saddle. “And just agree that we both have the right to feel however we’re feeling.”
“Wow,” I said after thinking about that for a moment. “You hit the parenting books hard on this one.” Maybe he could write one himself. I would tell him to add more sass. Not that I read parenting books, but my guess was there wasn’t enough sass.
“Yeah, I read books—”
I gasped and he gave me a dirty look.
“I tried to do this whole thing right,” he continued. “It still goes like this sometimes. Things go wrong.”
“None of the experts came up with a flawless plan, a way to order everything to your will?” Some experts! I did that all the time. Whether it worked or not was very rude to ask about.
Dad shook his head. “No parenting book has a perfect answer for everything.”
“You should get your money back,” I suggested.
He laughed. Just a little, but still, that was something. Dad sat there, adjusting the saddle or whatever, maybe just wanting something to do with his hands while I hovered and tried to project a supportive vibe.
“I wanted things to work out,” I told him.
“Me too.” He sighed. “No idea what to do now either.” He gave me a serious look. “Not that I’m asking for suggestions.”
“Wasn’t even going to bring the rodeo clown thing up.” Probably.
He sighed again. “Don’t want to have you put you through lady after lady.”
“You sly dog.” We were trying to do a serious thing, but Dad thought he had enough game to get lady after lady? Had to comment.
He brushed off the words. “That’s really not going to happen.”
Yeah, didn’t think this town had an overwhelming dating scene, even if he was Don Juan, but kinda seemed like part of the reason that wouldn’t happen was me. That introducing me to a bunch of women he was dating for a week or a month might not be a great thing to do, parenting wise. The books probably had something to say about that.
My dad wasn’t a frivolous guy. I doubted he’d do that. Him dating again might not always be easy, for him or me, but that wasn’t a reason for him to stop. Given the area we lived in, I fully expected there would be a Republican in the mix. If I was willing to risk a Republican being my new step mommy, then I was all in. As long as she cared about my dad, we would find a way to make it work.
“I can handle whatever happens next,” I assured him. “Like you said, there’s a lot you can’t control. No matter how long it takes, I can handle it. The best thing you can do is find someone that makes you happy. That’s what you deserve and that’s obviously what I deserve.”
He laughed again. Twice! “Guess you’re right.”
Duh, I’m always right. But this was an emotional time, so I was sensitive and crap and didn’t point that out. Emotional father-son time ended eventually, but we stayed in the barn. We hung out.
Dad liked teaching me things, even if I didn’t always like learning. He told me about what the farm had been like when he was young, and he went through some stuff about caring for horses. I would definitely try to care for the horses when we got them. Even though the great outdoors wasn’t always for me.
Animal husbandry wasespeciallynot for me, but I could try. Also, who decided to call it animal husbandry? I didn’t like the name as someone who would only have husbands. Husband. Whatever. And my husband husbands wouldn’t be animals. Unless in the bedroom, no, focus.
I could do that occasionally. And once someone managed to hold my brain down and put this kind of knowledge in it, it tended to stick. I remembered it pretty well. I liked to think that had something to do with Dad. I got that from him.
What did I inherit from my mom? My eyes and hopefully not a receding hair line, which was passed down maternally. There was that whole finishing touches thing she did and well.
“We should put a pink horseshoe over the entrance,” I told Dad as we finished up our lesson, pointing to a spot above the entrance.
Dad scoffed. “This isn’t a reality TV competition, not everything needs to be decorated.”
