Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“What if she did online schooling until she got past this? It’s something she could do at your mom’s house.”
I take another big gulp of beer and shake my head. “That’s been brought up in the past by Tia. Lola loves school. Despite a few asshole kids who make fun of her scars, she loves it. And taking that from her would feel like ten steps backward. She’d hate me for it. That girl is a social butterfly.”
Diego bows his head and stares at his beer bottle for several seconds. “What if you’re overprotecting her?”
“What do you mean? She sees a therapist. Everything I do is at the suggestion of an expert. It’s not like I’m making this up as I go. This isn’t my pace; it’s Lola’s pace, which her therapist says I need to respect.”
Diego shakes his head. “I’m not suggesting you push her into anything or that you make her feel guilty. But you can be honest with her in a loving way. You should tell her that Maren asked you to move in with her. And if that happens, Tia and Amos will leave. Then you can tell her about your predicament in the fall. Let her help figure out a solution.”
“She’ll feel guilty,” I say.
“Or empowered. Maybe she’ll feel a sense of responsibility to help find a solution.”
I lean against his tool chest and cross one ankle over the other. “It could backfire on me.”
Diego nods several times. “It could. But you said it yourself. You’re in a pickle. I don’t think you have a choice to keep this from Lola.”
“Unless I tell Maren now is not a good time. And I make nice with Tia and Amos. Keep the status quo while we wait for Lola to get better.”
Again, Diego nods. “You can do that. But is that what you want to do?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Want? Fuck, man, I can’t realistically think about what I want because my wants feel selfish and irresponsible.”
“That’s just your shrunken testicles talking.”
I finish my beer and toss the bottle into his bin. “You’re right. I need to tell Lola.”
“I think that’s the best solution,” Diego says.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Is this about the neighbor’s rosebush?” Lola asks while her grandparents and I stare at her over dinner.
During my lunch break, I called my mom to talk to Lola and told her we had something to discuss with her tonight over dinner.
But instead of a discussion, it’s turned into a game of chicken. Nobody wants to be the instigator or the bad guy in this scenario. So we look ridiculous watching Lola eat while we keep quiet.
The good news (I think) is that Tia and Amos haven’t started packing anything, so I suspect she was bluffing. But that could change at any moment.
“What are you talking about?” I set my fork on my plate and blot my mouth with a napkin.
“Addie and I were playing basketball, and the ball kept landing in the rosebushes, breaking some branches.”
“Well, that’s not good,” I say. “But that’s not what we want to talk about.”
“Then what?” Lola shifts her wide-eyed gaze to Tia and Amos.
“Maren wants us to move in with her,” I say just as Tia opens her mouth to speak.
Lola gasps. “Really? You’re getting married?” She practically falls out of her chair with excitement.
Tia pins me with an I-told-you-so gaze. Someone, somewhere along the way, instilled it into my daughter that men and women don’t live together until they’re married. And maybe that should be every father’s dream, but it’s not every boyfriend’s dream.
Boyfriend.
There’s something about adults calling themselves boyfriends and girlfriends that sounds juvenile and just wrong.
Partner?
That conjures up other things that don’t fit either.
“Lola, no. We’re . . .” I shake my head, fighting frustration. “Sometimes people live together—adults live together even if they’re not married.”
“Living in sin?” Lola narrows her eyes. “That’s what Nana said about Uncle Leroy living with his girlfriend.”
Eyeing Tia, I give her my best grateful smile. Sure, it might look murderous to someone else, but it’s not. I’m incredibly thankful that she’s taken the time to pass along her standards of morality to my daughter.
Tia sits up a little straighter with an air of smugness. She hasn’t had to say a word because she’s already brainwashed my daughter, molding her into a judgmental disciple spewing Tia’s doctrine.
“Lola, Nana thinks Leroy is living in sin because some book she read—”
“It’s not some book,” Tia interrupts. “It’s the Bible. And I know your mother raised you better than to disrespect God’s word this way. Just because you don’t take Lola to church anymore doesn’t mean you have the right to raise her as a heathen.”
“Tia, for the love of—”
“What’s a heathen?” Lola asks, cutting me off just as I raise my voice.
As a rule, we don’t argue in front of Lola, but I feel attacked as a father and role model. I don’t appreciate her making me look bad in front of my daughter.