Page 14 of Dry as a Fish
When I came out, my mom was in the kitchen with all five of my brothers.
"Slooooooane!" my youngest brother cried out. He ran out, threw his arms around me, hugging me tightly as the side of his face pressed into my belly.
That only lasted a moment before my mom grabbed him bythe shoulder and pulled him away from me. "That's enough of that. Leave room for Jesus."
My stomach turned the way it always did when she said something like that, subtly scolding me for being affectionate with my younger siblings, most of whom I'd been taking care of the moment my mother decided I was able to hold them without risk of dropping them.
"Where is Delphon?" I asked, my heart rate jumping up as I already knew the answer to the question.
"He's talking to your Dad," she said.
Chapter
Seven
DELPHON
Ididn't know what I was expecting when Sloane explained what I needed to do for her, but I wasn't expecting her father, Tom, to be so... awkward. We were in a room her mother had called the man cave before leaving us alone in it. A single bare bulb swung overhead, its filament humming softly as it cast long shadows across the reclaimed-wood bar against the far wall. Against one wall, a leather-faced recliner slumped into a corner. In another corner was a heavy workbench with an array of tools: wrenches lined up on magnetized strips, a battered vise bolted to the corner, and jars of spare nuts and bolts gleaming in the strange lighting. There was a light on the workbench, but it wasn't on. The far wall was painted matte black, chalk scrawls tracking different dates and names, but I couldn't make sense of it. A glass-frosted mini-fridge nestled beneath the chalkboard wall.
Sloane's father, a portly man with facial hair that was a fiveo'clock shadow on its way to becoming a beard, stood up again. He had just sat down in the armchair, but then popped back up to his feet, looking up at me like he was trying to decide what to say.
It was okay if he didn't know what to say; Sloane had already told me what she needed me to do.
"I've come to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage," I said. "I wish to court her with the intention of marrying her when she is ready."
"What makes you think you're worthy of my only girl?" Tom asked, walking over to the workbench as if he was going to do something there, but changed his mind, turning back to face me, crossing his arms over his chest.
Sloane had given me the answer to that one, too. She said her father always talked about judging a man based on the work they could do.
"I don't expect to convince you with words," I said. "I'm the type of man who would rather prove myself with actions. I'm here to show you my value through my labor."
"Actions, huh?" Tom asked. "You think you're going to come onto my land, into my house, and convince me to give away my only daughter just because you know how to work? I have enough sons. What I want to know is why you think I'm going to let you anywhere near my daughter after you devalued her."
"Devalued?" I asked, confused. Sloane hadn't told me what to say in response to that. She said I just needed to be willing to do some hard labor. She said her dad would give me a hard time, but if I impressed him by getting all the work done, he would approve of me courting, which means I would be able to come visit her here at her home more easily, as long as I helped out with things every time I came.
"You think my son didn't tell me about the getup that girl was in when she showed up?" Tom said, his face turning red as he raised his voice. "That tart has been missing for weeks now! You think I believe that she would spend weeks away from the protection of her family and not get into trouble?"
"She was in trouble, but I helped her get away from that place and brought her back to you," I said.
"All women are born sluts and it is up to the men in their lives to keep them in hand," Tom spat out. "Eve took the apple and got us all kicked out of the garden. Trouble finds them the moment they leave their fathers. Let me guess, you weren't the one who took her virtue, you were just the one to pick up the trash afterwards."
"Don't speak about Sloane that way," I said, my voice quiet as I finally understood what he was saying. Anger snaked up my spine.
"I'm just saying what everyone will say," Tom said. "No God fearing child runs off and leaves her family like that. She should have stayed here, stayed where she was safe and protected. We would have found her a good man."
"I am a good man," I said.
"I'm no fool," Tom said. "Vitiligo? My wife might be polite, bless her soul, but you look like a grade A freak to me. You think I'd ever let someone like you have my daughter you are out of your goddamn mind. I'm not having grandchildren who look like freaks! My daughter is going to stay here, and if we can't find a man who will overlook her being defiled, her brothers will make sure she doesn't starve. We're going to keep her safe if we have to lock her in her room to do it!"
I didn't respond.
There was no point in talking to a man who would say things like that.
Instead, I turned and walked out of the room, heading through the house towards the sound of the song that reverberated through my heart.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Tom yelled behind me. "Get back in here! We aren't done!"
I walked out into the kitchen. Sloane was sitting in a chair, her mom's arm around her shoulder, as she looked utterly miserable. There were four younger boys on the other side of Sloane's mom, sitting quietly. A bright light shone on all of them from the phone that was propped up on the table with a small stand. When she spotted me, Sloan straightened, reaching out to tap on the phone.
