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‘How was it?’
‘So easy,’ I wrote back. ‘It’s a good thing you stole the exam. I could never have passed without it.’
I thought it was funny, but Quin didn’t reply.
‘You’ll be there on Saturday, right?’
‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ he immediately wrote back.
‘I’ll put the tickets at ‘Will Call’.’
‘Okay. Thanks.’
‘No. Thank you!’ I said not knowing how else to express how grateful I was to him.
I knew that I didn’t deserve to have someone like Quin in my life. My life was a mess. I had a girlfriend I didn’t love. I didn’t want to leave my house in fear that when I returned my father would be gone. And my career was set to take me away from him.
Quin was an incredibly amazing guy who deserved so much more than someone like me. He was someone who would literally go down in history. On top of that, he was sweet, and thoughtful, and brilliant. Who was I compared to all of that?
“You’ll be at the game on Saturday, right Dad?” I asked him when I found him drinking in front of the TV.
“Yea,” he said without looking at me.
I didn’t stop staring at him. As much as I tried to ignore it when Quin said it, his words had stuck. Without knowing about my dad’s drunken tirades about me not being his son, Quin had said that I was adopted.
That couldn’t be a coincidence. Quin was an extremely smart guy. He knew all of that stuff about dimples. There was no way he had mixed it up with butt dimples. There was no way.
And, beyond dimples, there were a few more things that weren’t quite as obscure. My father was a real redhead who went from pale to freckled pink. Quin had said that redheads had dark-haired kids all of the time. And that was what I had told myself growing up.
But, on top of that, my dad was left-handed while I was right-handed. He liked foods I found disgusting. He was super hairy while at 22, I still struggled to grow facial hair. And, I was pretty sure he was colorblind. Either that or he severely rejected societal pressure to match his socks.
None of those things meant anything on their own. But add them all together? It had always made me think. Now add that to my dad’s rants and what Quin said about dimples and I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
“What?” My father said having felt me stare.
Did I ask him about it while he was still somewhat sober? Would my asking him be the thing that finally made him leave? I couldn’t deal with this. Not now, at least.
“What?” He asked again, this time a little pissed off.
“Your ticket will be at ‘Will Call’,” I told him looking away and heading to my room.
He grunted in reply.
“Boy?”
“You know I don’t like it when you call me that,” I told him.
“You know scouts will be there on Saturday, right?”
“I know.”
“You prepared?”
“Coach has us ready.”
“Good. Who was that boy you brought around last night?”
I stopped my exit as soon as he brought up Quin. If I was going to have a life with Quin, at some point I was going to have to talk to him about it.
