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"Do you want to talk about it?" My dad unbuckles his seat belt the second we reach cruising altitude.
"About what?" I stare out the window at the nearly cloudless sky.
"The girl. Jennie."
"What do you want to know about her?"
"I mean, do you want to talk about … you know. Your feelings and shit."
With a dry chuckle, I shake my head. "I think I'm good. When did you get into talking about 'feelings and shit'? Because for many months, I've been at your disposal, ready and moderately willing to listen to your feelings and shit about—"
"Her."
I turn toward him. "You said Mom's name to Jennie, so I know you can say it."
"I was trying to be on my best behavior for you."
"Yeah, about that. Where has this best behavior been? I thought you lost the best of yourself with your house in the divorce."
He twists his lips and drums his gray-haired fingers on his thighs. "Jennie reminds me of Her. When your mom was young, She had passion." Dad clears his throat. "Well, a different kind of passion than the missing one for which She supposedly left me. I don't think I could share Her in bed with someone else."
"Dad," I rub my forehead, "I don't think Mom's looking for that."
"She loved the explicit novels. What did Mike use to call it? Mommy porn?"
"Yeah, I don't think the adult romance community warmly accepts that term."
He waves his hand in the air. "You know what I'm talking about. Lots of nipples, clits, and cocks. Moaning. Multiple orgasms. That shit's ruining marriages. Setting the bar impossibly high for men."
I think of the time I reenacted the sex scene from Jennie's book. She was all in. I didn't feel like the bar was set too high. I felt like she gave me a ladder and a clear map of how to reach said bar.
"Maybe you should read some of those books. They're much different from those videos you watch on your computer."
He grumbles. "You know, after getting out of the shower, she asked me to talk dirty to her—"
"Dad, no. Please. I don't need to—"
"I told her to bend over and clean the toilet. I slept on the sofa that night."
"Let's talk about Jennie. I'll share my feelings. Just …" I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Please don't share your sex life with me."
"Sex life? We didn't have sex that night. And she didn't even clean the toilet."
"Shh …" I scoot down in my chair when I feel other passengers staring at us. We're done talking.
I text Jennie when we get home.
Lisa: Home
Lisa: Is Teddy there?
Jennie: Glad to hear u had a safe trip
Jennie: His plane just landed. He should be here in 30
Lisa: I'll be here catching up on work. Call or FaceTime if ur bored
Jennie: Same to u
I grin and call her.
She answers with a giggle. "Bored already?"
"My responsibilities are boring."
"I'm boring."
"No." I close my bedroom door when my dad walks past my room to his bathroom. Putting her on speaker, I toss the phone on my bed to unpack my bag. "You are anything but boring."
She sighs. "Is it too soon to miss you?"
My chest swells, and I want to pound my fists against it. "I can jump on a plane and visit anytime. Just say the word."
"Jump on a plane and come visit me."
I laugh, tossing my dirty clothes into the hamper. "I'm sure Teddy could use a friend. You make everything better. Do your magic. I'll be knocking at your door again before you know it."
"Pfft. I don't think I can make his situation better."
"His situation is one of pain. He's in pain. You're the perfect salve." As I say the words, I internally cringe. Teddy looks at her like I've looked at her. And I'd be lying if I said that doesn't fuck with my head.
"Lisa …"
"Jennie." I move my phone to the bathroom vanity while unpacking my toiletries.
"It's easier to deal with you so far away when you say the wrong word. Say something stupid. Insult my favorite book or my taste in art. Make me feel better about the distance between us. Just stop saying the right thing. I don't know what to do with that—not from you."
I laugh, sitting on the tub's edge and running my hands through my hair. I fucking love this woman. And maybe I should say it. Just … throw it out there. Would it be the right word? Or would it, once again, derail her life when she's so hopeful about this job in Spain? "Since you asked, I have to say … the color of your car is a little—"
"A little what?"
"Old lady."
"Old lady?"
"Yes. It's light brown metallic with a beige interior."
"I got a good deal on it. Nearly half the price of other cars with low miles."
"You got a good deal on it because everyone else interested in that color no longer has a driver's license—or a pulse, for that matter."
She gasps, and I can picture her jaw hanging low, eyes squinted, and shoulders hugging her ears. "Lisa Manoban, that's just—"
"I love you, Jennie."
Shit. I wasn't going to say it. Not yet.
But every time I exhale, I feel those words leave my chest in a tiny whisper. The only way I can breathe is by letting them out.
She says nothing.
"I'm sorry." I squeeze my eyes shut. "I mean, I'm not sorry that I love you. I'm sorry if hearing those words imparts any sort of responsibility. It's not a plea or a question. I expect nothing in return. It changes nothing. Okay? Dream big. Be a million times more responsible and successful than me. I mean … you already are."
"Lisa—"
"I think it's my dad struggling to deal with my mom. And Teddy dealing with his sick mom. It's got me thinking about life's fragility and our bonds with people."
"Lisa—"
"Giving and receiving love is important. It doesn't even have to be in a romantic way. You know? It's a confidence builder. Or it should be. You can be a little more awesome because you have so many people who love you." I pick up my phone and head back to my bedroom, pacing like an addict.
"Lisa—"
"I'm not saying how I feel about you isn't romantic. It is, but the love isn't needy. It's like the kind of love you can take or leave. If you need it, great. If not, no big deal. Think of it as complementary shampoo and soap at a hotel."
I'm a fucking idiot!
That was the worst declaration of love ever. I mean, EVER.
"Hey, Teddy. I'll be off the phone in just a sec," Jennie says.
"I'll let you go, Jennie. Good talk. Say 'hi' to Teddy."
I press end.
"Fuck …" I cock my arm back, readying to heave my phone against the wall. Then on a slow exhale, I deflate and gather my composure.
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