Page 17 of The Heart That Breaks
“I’ve learned from you.”
“And I’m proud of that. I’m just saying there’s nothing wrong with going to school and working on your dream at the same time. It’s a fact that one is almost certain to help the other.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
“Fair enough.”
“Hey, Dad.”
“Yeah?” He looks up at me, his expression expectant.
“There’s this girl I went out to see tonight. I actually asked her to Homecoming.”
“What’d she say?”
“She doesn’t really have the money for a dress.”
“Oh.”
“I told her she could wear one of Hannah’s. She’s got plenty.”
He sits back on the sofa, sets his guitar down on the floor. “I can appreciate the logic of that, son, but what did she say?”
“She probably sees it as a hand out.”
“Yeah.”
“So what would have been the right thing to say?”
“That’s a tough one.”
“I’d like to take her.”
“Does she want to go?”
“I think so. Except for the dress thing.”
“Maybe you ought to just tell her you don’t really care what she wears. You’d just like to take her to the dance. And if she wants to go, she’ll either take you up on the offer or not. But then it’ll be her decision without having to feel like you’re offering her charity.”
I think about what he’s just said, and then, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know you didn’t. But put yourself in her place.”
“Is that really possible?”
“Probably not. But most of us don’t like feeling like we need a handout.”
“So should I just forget it?”
“She might change her mind.”
“I guess I’m not very good at not getting what I want.”
“Maybe this will give you some practice.”
“Excellent.”
He smiles at this, standing. “Past my bedtime. ‘Night, son.”
