Page 45 of The Disasters of Dating
I purse my lips together. “I think I’ll go with the sourdough.”
I can feel Keaton watching me, as if he is taking mental notes. But what the notes are about, I couldn’t say. But it still makes me self-conscious. I can tell we are moving into a Cancer Moon cycle.
“What do you want for your side?”
I frown. “The apple kale slaw is too similar a texture to the chicken salad.” It kills me a little to upgrade to fries because they are, like, 5 bucks extra—who charges that much for fries? Fancy French cafes, that’s who—but they may be worth it. “I’ll get the pommes frites.”
He nods and turns his attention to Keaton. “And for you, sir?”
“I’ll have the rigatoni bolognese.”
“Ah, very good choice, sir. It’s one of my favorites.” The server scribbles down on a notepad. I’m impressed to see that this time, Keaton ordered one of the less expensive items. Is that because I’m paying? “Would you like to add a side salad or anything else?”
“Do you have Dr. Pepper?”
“We do.”
Keaton hands his menu to the server. “I’ll take a Dr. Pepper, then. Thanks.”
“And for you, Miss?”
I sigh. I don’t want to pay for a soda, but their water tastes like garbage. “I guess I’ll have a Sprite.”
The server tucks the menus under his arm and smiles as he turns on his heel and leaves us.
“Decided against the pasta?” Keaton asks as he lifts his water glass to his lips and takes a sip. He makes a face. “I hope it wasn’t anything I said.”
“Nope.” I clasp my hands in my lap. “I called an audible.”
Keaton grins. “An audible, huh?” He fiddles with the tines on his fork, picking it up and then dropping it to the table. “Are you a football fan?”
I nod as I play with my fork tines, too. “I am. I used to watch it a lot with my dad. He coached our local high school team when I was young. I remember we used to go to all the games. I thought it was so boring then. But as I got older and understood it more, it became more entertaining. When he became a principal, we still went to all the games, but we’d also watch all the college football games on the weekends.”
Keaton is watching me, and I feel a little exposed. “Is your dad only a college football guy, or does he like the pros too?”
“He liked them both, but college was his favorite.”
“Was?” Keaton asks.
I sigh, wishing I hadn’t brought it up. “Yeah, he died when I was nine.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He doesn’t look at me with pity, like a lot of people do when they learn my dad died. Instead, it’s more of an understanding look. “Losing a parent is hard. Especially when you’re so young.”
I tip my head. “You speak as if you have experience.”
He nods. “Yeah, my mom passed away five years ago. I was a lot older than you were, but it was still so hard.”
I reach over and put my hand over his and squeeze. It’s weird to bond over something so depressing. But I feel like we have somethinglinking us that we didn’t have before. “Yeah, it sucks.” My brow furrows. “Man, and losing a mom has to be tough. It’s like they’re the glue that holds the family together.” I sigh. “I’m not sure what I’d do if I lost my mom.”
“Yeah, my dad didn’t know how to handle it. So he threw himself into his work. Which is okay, except when you have kids who are trying to process everything, too. My little brother was still in high school when it happened. He needed my dad. But my dad wasn’t there. Things are better now.” He gives his head a little shake and drops it to the side. “It sounds like you were close to your dad, though. I’m sure that was hard.”
I nod. Losing my dadwashard. But I think the way we lost him made it ten times harder. Although I guess it doesn’t really matter how they die—they still aren’t there with you when you need them. It’s not like if he had died in a car accident or of some disease that he would still walk me down the aisle when I get married.
I perk up and smile at him because I don’t like these icky feelings. I know people would tell me I’m pushing them down in an unhealthy manner. But whatever. They aren’t me, so they should keep their judgments to themselves. “So tell me about your family.” It feels like a first-date question. Even though this isn’t a date. Why do I feel the need to keep emphasizing that? Who am I trying to convince?
His lips quirk up, and I can tell I’ve hit a subject he likes talking about. And it feels like a mostly safe topic. He already knows about my dad, so he likely won’t ask any more questions about him.
“There isn’t much to tell. I have an older brother and an older sister who are both married. And then a younger brother who tends to be a punk. But I still like him.” He grins and sits back in his chair. “What about you?”
