Page 86 of My All American Girl

I found him in the garage, standing around his nineteen sixty-seven Ford Mustang. It was his baby. He had driven me to prom in that car. Memories of that night, filled with laughter and pride, felt distant now. The car was in pristine condition. He was polishing the hood, a beer balanced on the workbench behind him. My uncle and grandfather were there too, leaning against the wall and chatting amongst themselves. My father looked up as I approached, his face impassive as he put down the cloth he had been holding.

“Sarah,” he said, raising an eyebrow at me.

He gave me a curt nod. It wasn’t the most enthusiastic welcome but it was better than him screaming at me.

My mother hollered that the food was ready. I hung back when my uncle and grandfather left. Once they were gone, I cornered my father, my stomach in knots.

“Dad, can we talk?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He looked at me, his expression unreadable. “There will be plenty of time for that tomorrow.”

“Please, Dad,” I insisted, stepping in his path. “I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. I need to explain what happened. I’m sorry I disappointed you, but I think I deserve five minutes to explain myself.”

He sighed, his face hardening. “If it will only take five minutes, it can definitely wait until tomorrow.”

He stepped past me, leaving me standing there, feeling more isolated than ever.

I watched him retreat toward the house, leaving me alone in the garage with the smell of motor oil and car wax. It used to be a comforting smell. Something that brought back memories of my youth when he would let me help him wax the car.

The high-pitched laughter of Aunt Linda floated in from the backyard. With a deep breath, I looked at the Mustang. Its gleaming exterior seemed to hold a lifetime of memories—late night drives, lessons about carburetors and spark plugs, and the intense pride on my father’s face when he’d first shown it to me.

I knew he wanted a son. I tried to be good enough for him anyway. He always told me if I wanted to be a pilot, I needed to know some of the basics of mechanics. I took what he said seriously and went beyond learning how to change a tire. It gave me confidence to know I could handle myself. I didn’t have to rely on a boyfriend or husband to take care of me.

But I wasn’t going to let myself wallow in self-pity. I had survived worse, and I would survive this too. My father had been pissed at me before. He would get over it eventually. Or he wouldn’t and I would have to go on and prove myself worthy of carrying his last name without any recognition from him.

With that, I walked to the backyard to take advantage of the meal.

The house was filled with laughter as relatives caught up with each other. Aunts chatted animatedly over recipes while uncles debated politics. I picked up a paper plate and surveyed the many salads my mom and aunts had prepared. This was the pretty usual fare. It was very reminiscent of growing up. My dad would invite fellow airmen over for Sunday barbecues. On holidays, there were a lot of enlisted that couldn’t make the journey home and they would end up at our table as well. My mom loved it. She loved feeding people.

With my plate filled I found an empty chair and sat down. My father was holding court with relatives. He used to talk everyone’s ear off about how well I was doing, but tonight, he barely mentioned my name. Instead, he talked about Meg nonstop. My sister savored every second of it, basking in his praise.

I stared at her, then back at my plate. The mustard potato salad seemed to have lost its color, as though it was a reflection of my insides. I tried to focus on the chatter around me, but the words were just a murmur, a white noise that pushed me further into my own thoughts.

I felt invisible. I never realized that feeling could be so painful. I was used to having my father’s attention shining down on me. For the first time since the fight happened, I realized this might be a lot bigger than I thought. He might truly want to disown me. The thought made me sick to my stomach.

“What’s wrong?” my cousin Lisa asked, interrupting my contemplation. “Has the potato salad gone bad already?”

“No, it’s nothing,” I muttered, putting on a small smile. I turned my attention back to the food in front of me, picking at it aimlessly.

Lisa wasn’t fooled by my feeble attempt to brush off her question. She looked at me. “Your dad is different today.”

“How so?”

“He’s acting like Meg hung the moon.” She laughed. “I’m guessing you did something to make him mad? Or did Meg just get awesome all of a sudden?”

I laughed. “Meg’s always been awesome, but I’m definitely on his shit list.”

“Are you pregnant or something?” she teased, knowing my father well.

“Can you imagine?” I grinned and shook my head. “The party would have been cancelled.”

She nodded. “So what’d you do? Fail a test? Get a parking ticket?”

“I got in a fight during a training exercise,” I said, sighing.

“Are you in the military? Isn’t fighting a good thing?”

I shook my head. “I broke protocol. So it was against the rules. The general thinks I’ve dimmed the shine on his stars.”

“He’ll get over it.” She shrugged. “It’s not your first and I’m guessing it won’t be your last. And that man will always find something to criticize you for. That’s just how he is.”

I struggled to return her smile. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” I replied, forcing a casualness I didn’t feel into my voice.

We fell back into silence as Lisa’s attention was attracted by Aunt Linda’s dog attempting to steal scraps from the table. I watched the scene unfold with detached interest, my gaze drawn back to my father and sister. They were laughing together, heads tilted back in shared laughter. It felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

Lisa got up to talk with some other family members. After doing my best to eat, I decided I was done. I couldn’t take it anymore. I excused myself early and headed up to my room.

Flopping onto my old bed, I stared at Dean’s poster, wishing he was next to me. If this was how my father treated me after what I considered a minor misstep, what would he do if he found out about Dean and me?

The thought weighed heavily on my mind. I grabbed my phone and stared at the screen, tempted to text Dean. But what could I say? That I was scared? That I felt like a stranger in my own home? I sighed and put the phone down, closing my eyes and trying to find some semblance of calm.

My father was a hard man. He set a high bar and was letting me know just how disappointed he was in me. I was going to have to suck it up for a couple more days. Then I would be back with Dean and we were going to London. That was something to look forward to.

With an ocean separating us from my overbearing father, we might finally get to act like a regular couple for a change.