Page 54 of Doctorshipped
There’s the million dollar question.
“It doesn’t matter what I want. She’s Fiona’s tutor. She’s seven years younger than me, and she’s as committed to avoiding romantic relationships as I am. Besides, she’s perpetually happy.”
“Such a despicable trait in a woman.” He chuckles again.
I wait for my dad to say more.
He doesn’t. He simply sits quietly on the other end of the line and then he hums this soft, knowing hum. Silence stretches out. Not a comfortable silence—one filled with the weight of this subject.
“Dad?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you hung up.”
“Nope.”
“Don’t you have something to say?”
“I don’t. You’re going to have to figure this out for yourself, Grant. But, I’ll tell you one thing. A man’s allowed to date. You aren’t asking the woman to get married. You might just ask her out for a cup of coffee. People grab coffee all day every day. That’s how Starbucks stays in business. So buy the woman a latte. No need to make it into more. Let it grow if it will. Or die if it won’t. Enjoy a simple hour or two with a woman who interests you.”
The way he talks, it all sounds so simple.
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Because it is. It’s just coffee, Grant.”
He pauses to let that thought sink in.
“Oh, and son?”
“Yeah, Dad?”
“Try to smile at least once during the time you’re out with her. People like to be smiled at.”
I roll my eyes. Then I realize I rolled my eyes and I do it again.
When we hang up, I find myself reciting my dad's words quietly to myself.
“It’s just coffee.”
* * *
Fiona comes boundingin the kitchen from the back yard and pulls up short when she sees me at the refrigerator.
“Um.”
“Did you need something to eat?”
“Yes. I need lettuce.”
“Lettuce?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Plain lettuce?”
Her hands go behind her back and I picture her fingers interlocking. She rocks on her heels and nods.
