Page 45 of Tastes Like Watermelon Moonshine
As I turn the corner and catch a glimpse through the storm door, I stop short. This is the last thing I was expecting. The last person I thought I’d ever see again. He washed his hands of us. Wrote us off.
My heart races like my truck going from zero to sixty and I just stare.
“Who is it?” Mom calls from the kitchen.
I can’t find the words. They’re stuck in my throat. What is there to say? Why is he here? What does he want?
I hear Mom’s footsteps and I still don’t move or speak. She runs into my back with anoof.“Austin, who is it?” She can’t see around me. I finally blink and move out of her way. Her gasp echoes around the tiny entry hall.
“Can I come in?” Dad raises his eyebrows at us from the other side of the storm door.
At the sound of his voice, Izzy comes running. “Daddy?” She yelps. She careens around the corner, plowing into both me and Mom.
Aside from Izzy, Mom is the first one to find her voice. “What are you doing here?” Her voice trembles as she speaks, and I put my arm around her shoulders in a show of support.
“It’s good to see you too, Kimberly.” Dad raises his eyebrows and tries the door handle. “Can I come in?”
“You heard Mom. What are you doing here?” I gather my courage as I raise my chin and pin Dad with a steely stare. “Guests will get here soon for my graduation party, this really isn’t a good time for you to show up.”
“Well, maybe I’m here for the graduation party.” Dad rocks back on his heels, his hands in his pockets.
“Why would you want to come? The actual graduation was this morning, why didn’t you come then?” My temper is risingand I do nothing to stop it. The anger burns through my veins, heating my skin. “I wasn’t important enough to you then, or even last year.” I wave a hand, giving into the well of anger springing up inside me. Why show up now? It’s not like he was there to support me throughout high school. He’d checked out of my life a while ago, but finally left altogether when he divorced Mom. I find my voice again. Stronger and louder now. “None of us mattered to you last year. You weren’t here for late night study sessions.” I step forward, only the screen in the storm door separating us now. “You didn’t pay for my schooling. You didn’t pay for my sports gear. You didn’t come to my games. All that mattered to you was making more money at your hot shot job and your girlfriend,” I snarl the final word. I’m seething. My chest is heaving and beads of sweat have formed along my hairline.
“Let’s save the arguing for later. Can we try to be civil until after the party?” Mom places a hand on my shoulder and slowly pulls me away from the door. “This is Austin’s big day, and I don’t want it ruined. So if you want to argue, either leave or figure out how to save it for later.”
“Well, I’ve got another party with the senior class after my party is over, and I don’t want that time ruined, so anything you want to say to me can wait until tomorrow.” I clench my fists and harden my jaw. Why show up now, for the party? Why not for the actual graduation? Why even bother? I haven’t really missed him.
Fine, that’s a lie. I have missed him. Missed what I thought I should have had with the man who calls himself my dad. But I won’t admit that out loud. I really don’t want him in my life. I want nothing to do with him.
Spinning on my heel, I nearly run over Izzy as I stomp off to my room. I’ve got a party to get ready for, but the anger is still pulsing inside me and I want to punch or kick something. Ipull out my phone and decide to text Coach, he might have some good advice.
Austin:
My dad just showed up. I have no clue what to do.
I shoot Carson a text as well. I think he’d be down for fighting my dad if it comes down to it.
Austin:
My dad just showed up. Got any boxing gloves?
I sit on the bed for as long as I can. But my restless legs won’t let me stay put. I need to be doing something. I grab a baseball from my bag and make my way to the backyard. The screen door slams behind me, silencing the murmurs of my parents' voices. I know Coach would tell me to pray; that’s his advice for every situation, good or bad.
“God, I don’t know what to do. Why is he here? What should I say? How do I keep from being so angry? I don’t know what else to say.” I whisper the words to the clouds as I walk across the yard.
I throw the baseball at the trunk of one of the maples in the backyard. It ricochets off the bark and plops to the ground, rolling back toward me.
My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket, halting my process of grabbing the ball to hurl it at the tree again.
Coach
#1 pray. #2 I’ll be over in a bit. Was going to leave soon for your party anyway, but I'll try to leave sooner.
I don’t respond. Can’t think of what to say. I slide the phone back into my pocket. There’s no chance of me heading back inside the house. I lean down to pick up the baseball again, butCoach appears in my thoughts. I think about what he would tell me to do, even though I know he’s on his way over.
He’d tell me that if I can’t pray, to listen to some praise and worship music instead. I plop down on the rickety steps of the back porch. I open Spotify and pull up the playlist that all of us guys put together. I swipe through it, looking for the right song. I finally settle onAlwaysby Kristian Stanfill.
When the singers get to the part about our help being on the way, I can’t help but laugh. My help is on the way. In the form of Coach. Who I know is closer to God than I am. It's like he’s got a more direct line to God than I do. Even though I know that since Christ is my Savior I can go to God anytime I want.
