Work Text:
“You haven’t said much about how school is going,” my dad says. We’re doing maintenance on the boat, just the two of us, and we’ve neither one said anything for like an hour, which can be pretty nice sometimes.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m doing fine on my work.”
“I know that,” he answers, “but there’s other stuff to it when you get older. How’s that stuff?”
He always knows. I have no clue how he always knows, even when he shouldn’t. It’s not like being a supersoldier means you can read minds.
“Avery—asked me back out. Tim dumped her.” I know after this long that I might as well be honest. He’ll get it out of me eventually, and it usually feels better once he knows, even if it’s embarrassing at first.
“Okay. How’s that feel?” He sits down and pats the bench next to him. I should have figured we were into the serious talking part of the evening. My dad is a big one for communication, and he never, ever lets it go.
I shrug and take the seat. “I don’t know. She’s still pretty and smart.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, “but you sound like you’re not sure.”
“She—dumped me for Tim, and now—she’s back,” I say, feeling triggered like I was when she’d first come up to me. “I feel—kind of mad, Dad. Does that make me a bad person?”
“It makes you a human person,” he answers drily. “I reserved judgment when Avery broke up with you because you guys are so young; it makes sense not to overcommit. But, Son, she’s back because the other guy is gone. You’re allowed to be angry.”
“But I also kind of want to go back out with her,” I admit. “It was fun, and I still like her.”
“I get it,” Dad answers. Just that. Not trying to tell me what to do.
“I think—I wish she was cooler,” I continue, “cause she’s kind of awesome, but if she was really awesome, she—wouldn’t have done that.”
“I agree,” Dad says.
“So I’m gonna tell her no,” I finish.
Dad pats my knee. “Hard to do that with a girl you like, but—it’s the right decision, Son. I’m proud of you. You’re learning to respect yourself.”
I give him a look. “It’s not like I did good on a test or something.”
“Nah,” he shakes his head, “this is a different kind of test, and you’re definitely acing it.”
“Kind of feels like I’m failing,” I mumble.
“That’s the problem with real life,” Dad says. “You don’t get a letter grade to make you feel better, and pretty often the right thing feels lousy.”
“So why do we do it?”
My dad puts his arm around me. I’m kind of surprised he’s resisted doing it this long. I don’t mind. “Cass,” he says, “we do it because the choices we make—even the ones that don’t feel good—make us the people we’re going to be. You’re young, but you’re already creating yourself, every single day. Your mom and I want you to make good choices so you can grow up to be your best—and your happiest.”
“That feels like a long time away,” I say, leaning into him.
“It’ll be here faster than you think,” he replies.
“You gotta—stay for it,” I say. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the sting of doubt about him sticking around.
“Don’t you doubt it,” he says, turning so he can hug me. I can’t complain—guess I kind of asked for it.