When Junior started school at Pulitzer's and wasn't living at home anymore, Racetrack came up with the idea of Sunday family dinners. He's carrying on the tradition with Maria, though Junior won't be able to join us. She has reluctantly agreed to come home for dinner on Sundays, but has a very sour look on her face when Race leads her in the front door.

"Hi, sweetheart," I say, pulling her into a hug.

"Hi, Spot," she replies, patting my back. Racetrack clears his throat and I feel Maria's shoulders tighten. "I mean, Dad."

Racetrack stands in the entryway, staring at us for a moment, then rubs his hands together. "Alright, well, who's hungry? I made lasagna." Maria nods and goes into the dining room to set the table, and as she leaves, Race arches an eyebrow at me. "What's going on with you two?"

"Nothing. It's just... nothing, don't worry about it." I shrug and work up a smile.

"And you try to tell me I'm a bad liar."

"Well... okay, we kind of got into a little bit of a fight yesterday when I went to drop off that box of her things she forgot. But everything's okay, she's probably still just a little bit peeved at me."

"She looks more like she's ready to kill you than 'just a little bit peeved.'" Racetrack crosses his arms over his chest and looks at me with the same expression he gives to Junior and Maria when he knows they're bullshitting him. "What did you fight about?"

"Um... I kind of walked into her dorm room, and she kind of wasn't alone."

"What?" Oh, shit. Yeah, I just told an Italian man that his only daughter was caught in a compromising position with a man she wasn't married to. "Who the hell was she with?"

"I don't know. Some kid, he doesn't even go to Pulitzer's. But I think I walked in before anything could really happen." I bite my lip, wishing his face would stop being that weird shade of red that it is right now. "But that's not even the worst part of it, Race."

"Oh, right, because my daughter possibly having lost her virginity so completely isn't the worst part. Please, Spot, do continue, I'm dying to know what could possibly be worse than that."

"Well, after I kicked the kid out on his sorry ass--"

"Thank you." Race sighs and runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

"I knew you'd appreciate that. Anyway, we were arguing, and I don't know if she was just angry or if she really meant it, but she was screaming at me, and she said I wasn't her father."

Racetrack suddenly stops looking so pissed off and looks at me, his mouth hanging open a little bit. "Ouch."

"Yeah."

"We'll talk to her about it after dinner."

"I don't think that's really necessary, Race," I say, shaking my head. "I mean, I bet it'll blow over soon enough and everything will be fine and it'll be like nothing even happened."

"But what if it doesn't blow over, and everything isn't fine? I can't have you two fighting like this, it just won't work." He starts heading into the kitchen. "We'll talk after dinner."

--

Dinner drags by mostly in silence, punctuated by the odd question here and there about school or life in the dormitories. Maria, normally a little chatterbox, doesn't seem to have much to say about anything and as soon as the meal is over, she gets up and promptly clears the plates. Race and I head into the living room and sit down, listening to the noises from the kitchen as Maria washes off the dishes.

"Princess," Race calls from the couch, "can you come in here?"

"Yeah." Maria shuffles in, and Race pats the cushion of the couch between the two of us. She rolls her eyes and plops down, looking from Race to me. "What's going on?"

"I should ask you the same question," Race says. "I'm not even going to bother asking what a boy who doesn't even go to Pulitzer's was doing in your dorm room, okay?"

Maria blushes, hanging her head. "Sorry, Daddy."

"I don't think I'm the one you need to be apologizing to." Race runs a hand over Maria's hair, sighing. "So what's this 'you're not my father' stuff I'm hearing about?"

She shrugs, raising her eyes to me. We make eye contact for barely a second, but the look she gives me is one of the coldest I've ever seen. "Well, he isn't."

Race blinks, his eyebrows slowly knitting together. "Maria, Spot's been here practically your whole life. He loves you and he helped raise you. I'd say that makes him just as much a parent as it does me, wouldn't you?"

"That's like saying Stephen is a parent to me, Daddy. Just because he's with one of my parents doesn't make him my father." Stephen "Pie Eater" Masters is Maria's stepfather, though the word 'father' doesn't really fit in there. He married Caroline, Racetrack's ex-wife, and dragged her and their son Robert out to Maine, and so Maria and Junior see their mother maybe twice a year, on certain holidays, if they're lucky. Stephen has this theory that if they aren't his kids, he shouldn't have to take care of them.

"Yeah, well, Spot actually took on the role of your parent. That's what sets him apart from Stephen. They're entirely different."

"Not really." Maria crosses her arms bad-temperedly over her chest and scowls at the wall across from her.

"Maria," I say finally, "what's going on? Why are you so mad at me?"

She turns to me, glaring. "If it weren't for you," she says, her jaw clenched tightly, "Mama and Daddy would still be together. And my life would be normal. I would be happy."

"Now, Maria, that's not true... you know things were falling apart between your Mama and me before Spot even came into the picture. We were really doomed from the beginning." Racetrack sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"Then why'd you even marry her if it wasn't going to work, Daddy? Why build a life with someone when it's all just going to fall down? Why have kids when all you're going to do is throw their lives off-balance?"

"Baby, your Mama and I were very young when we got married. We figured we were more in love than any two people on the planet could possibly be, and I, personally, was running away from the way I really felt. I made a mistake, I'll admit that, but I think I did my best to correct it." He puts his arm around her, looking at me apologetically from over the top of Maria's head. "Besides, I'm not the only one who screwed up the relationship; your Mama had an affair, too. That's how Stephen and Robert came into the picture."

"Yeah, I know, but at least Mama and Stephen and Robert aren't really anything to be embarrassed about." Maria sighs, looking pitifully up at Race. "Daddy, there are rumors going around school about you. I... I don't even know how they started. But people keep coming up to me and asking me if it's true that you're... you're, y'know, gay. And you always told me it's not okay to lie and I don't know what to say anymore!" Her big, brown eyes are brimming with tears, and I can't help but feel a little bit terrible for her. "Besides, if I go around school calling Spot 'Dad,' people are going to wonder. They're going to ask questions. I can't handle any more questions, Daddy." She sniffles, tears spilling down over her cheeks.

"Oh, sweetie." Racetrack pulls Maria against his chest, stroking her hair. "Look, I know it seems like everything's just going to shit right now, but it'll all be okay. At school, you don't have to call Spot 'Dad.' You can call him 'Mister Conlon' like everybody else. Right, Spot?"

I nod. "Right."

"But what about when he comes to my dorm room?"

"Well, you can just tell everybody it's a Mary Kay Letourneau type thing," I say with a smirk, and Racetrack reaches over and smacks me in the back of the head.

"Who's Mary Kay Letourneau?" Maria looks over at me, wiping her eyes.

"Never mind, sweetie," Race says, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, Spot really only goes to your dorm room with me, so it doesn't look all that suspicious, I guess. Look, we'll figure this all out, okay?"

Maria nods. "Okay."

"Everything's going to be fine."

"If you say so, Daddy."

--

I offer to drive Maria back to the school, and the ride, though it's not that far, seems impossibly long and drawn-out by the heavy silence between us.

At a traffic light about halfway to the school, I sigh and look over at her. "Look, Maria, you know I love you."

Maria continues staring out the window; I wouldn't think she even heard me if it weren't for her flat reply of, "Yeah, I know."

"And you know I'd do anything for you."

"Sure." She fiddles with the end of her sleeve, apparently very interested in the streetlight outside the window.

"So next time you have a problem, you can come to me." I reach over and put a hand on her forearm, squeezing gently. "Even if it's a problem with me. I need to know when you're not happy, so I can help fix it."

"'Kay." She slumps down lower in her seat, trying to masquerade pulling her arm away from my touch as simply adjusting.

I close my eyes for a moment and exhale, and then the light turns green and I keep driving. Maria doesn't waste any time as I pull up to the front of her dormitory.

"Goodnight," I say as she climbs out of the car. "I love you."

"Yeah, 'night," she says, slamming the door shut and jogging up the steps of the building.