YOU ARE NOT THE FATHER

“I know, and I do remember that offer. But I’ve got it handled.”

“Are you sure? You don’t need to worry about your pride here. I’m your father.”

I know that, but I feel awful asking anyone else after being so independent. It makes me feel like a scrounger. Dad says he knows I’m not, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

A car pulls up outside our house, distracting me from saying anything in return. It takes me a moment to realize who has arrived and is getting out of the car. My heart sinks. Oh, God, really? Did he have to follow me here?

“Oh, great.” Dad has seen him as well. “Do you want me to get rid of him?”

“No, I’ll do it.” I hesitate before walking past him. “Just be prepared to use the garden hose on him if he doesn’t bugger off.”

“Why the garden hose?”

“So you don’t take a swing at him. Getting him wet would be better than getting in trouble for smacking him.”

Dad grunts.

“You like to take the fun away, don’t you?”

I ignore that as I storm over to Nathan, who is approachin