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My lips parted. “Mom, are you sure?” It was her gorgeous diamond tennis bracelet—Dad bought it for her when I was born.
“I’m sure.” She gave it to me, and I slipped it around my wrist, clasping it shut.
I held out my arm, gazing at the sparkling stones. “I love it, Mom.”
“It’s beautiful on you.” She smiled. “Tell Sadie we said hello.”
We.
“You know,” Dad said. “Why don’t we go out and say hello?” He walked toward the door, and my heart dropped.
What if this didn’t go well? What if she said something that triggered his PTSD?
But he was already walking out the door, and Mom and I couldn’t stop a giant of a man like him. We hurried behind him as he walked up to Sadie’s car. He knocked on the window and waved with a smile on his face.
To her credit, she didn’t speed away.
No, she got out of the car and gave him that kind but uncomfortable smile of hers, saying, “I’m Sadie.”
Dad stuck out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Doug. April’s dad. Had to meet her new best friend.”
Sadie looked at me over my mom’s shoulder, like she was checking for permission.
I nodded and gave her an encouraging smile.
When she looked back at my dad, she said, “April’s been a great friend to me, too.”
“Glad to hear that,” Dad said. He stepped back and put his arm around Mom’s shoulders. “Have fun, girls.”
“We will,” Sadie said at the same time as I said, “Thanks, Dad.”
We got into her car as my parents walked back to the house. My heart was tight in my chest, always feeling like I was being pulled in two or three directions and waiting for the other shoe to drop. But I tried to hang on to the happy feeling. The one that reminded me I just got a real hug from my dad. He met my friend without anything disastrous happening. And even though his brain injury shortened his fuse and affected his memory, he wasn’t completely lost, no matter how much it felt that way sometimes.
Sadie smiled over at me in the car. “You look pretty. Is that a new bracelet?”
I held up my wrist. “It’s my mom’s.”
“Beautiful.” She looked over her shoulder, pulling out of our driveway. “So that’s your dad?”
I nodded, feeling more vulnerable than ever before.
“And his scars...”
“He was injured in the military,” I said, finding it harder to tell her than Diego. Maybe because this friendship mattered so much to me. “Someone in his troop stepped on an IED. Dad survived, barely. A lot of his injuries are to his brain.”
She nodded. “He seems nice. Your mom too.”
“He is, when he’s himself,” I said, needing her to understand why she couldn’t come over. The dad she saw, that wasn’t the full picture. “He...” I trailed off, looking for the right words.
She tapped on the brakes at a stop sign and looked over at me. “You don’t need to explain, April.”
“You’re my best friend,” I said softly. “I want to tell you.”
She smiled at me and nodded. “I’m here.”
Relief and gratitude washed over me in equal measure. “Thanks, Say.”
“No problem.” She continued driving toward the school.
