Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,34
finally composed herself enough to return to the theater, the movie was over, and Logan and Victoria were talking. Closely.
“No,” Martha said flatly. “It’s definitely Dinglehopper.”
There was a knock on the front door and Martha hopped up. “Crap,” she said. “One of us should have been in the ticket booth. That’s probably a pissed-off customer.”
“Maybe it’s Diffenderfer,” Victoria said, with an eagerness that Martha didn’t like.
Martha walked to the front door and opened it. “Dad,” she said with surprise.
Her dad had never stopped by Martha’s work before. Someone was dead. That was the only explanation. Someone had died horribly. She quickly ushered him in. “What are you doing here?”
“Why aren’t you in the ticket booth?”
“Is someone dead?”
“Why would someone be dead?”
Her father took off his baseball cap as he walked through the door.
“You can keep your hat on, Dad. Nobody cares.”
“I care. It’s rude to wear a hat indoors.”
The conventions of society that he chose to cling to were so annoyingly arbitrary. “So what’s up?” Martha asked.
“I finished filling out those financial aid forms.”
“Oh,” Martha said. “Thanks.” She didn’t want to go into debt, but she didn’t want to be veal either. She’d just sent the forms to her dad and her mom last night. Since her parents were divorced, she needed one from each of them.
“It says they need to be scanned,” he said. “I thought maybe you’d have one of those scanner thingies here.”
She shook her head. “No. But I have an app on my phone. I can take care of it.”
Her dad pulled an envelope out of his back pocket. He hesitated before handing it over. “I don’t want you to freak out when you see the numbers. They wanted to know about my debt too. When you add it all up in one column, it looks like a big deal. But it’s not. It’s just how adults live. I know how you get about money and… it’s nothing for you to worry about.”
Martha took the envelope from him. “Thanks.”
“Patsy. Look at me.”
She did.
“I wish I had more to give you.”
She hated this. She wished her dad knew how to use a scanner thingy or how to fill out a form online like every other parent in the world. She wished he could figure out how to do this by himself so she didn’t have to see the shame on his face right now.
“No, Dad. It’s fine. Honestly, the less income you have the better off I am. I’ll be eligible for a lot more financial aid. So seriously. The worse this is, the better for me.”
She was suddenly very aware of Victoria at the concession-stand counter. The sleeves of her dad’s shirt were rolled up, showing off the tattoo on his forearm of an eagle soaring over the American flag that he’d gotten on the anniversary of September 11. The ink was faded and blurred at the edges. People always misjudged her dad when they first met him, and she wondered if Victoria was doing it now. What they didn’t know was that underneath the rough-around-the-edges exterior was a savagely prolific reader who had had an important job once. They didn’t know that in high school everyone thought he was somebody special. Martha had seen his yearbook. He was a football star in the fall and a baseball legend in the spring. Senior year he was voted Most Popular, Best Couple (with Martha’s mom), and Most Likely to Be Drafted by the Cleveland Browns. They didn’t know that he’d done the admirable thing and turned down a football scholarship at Notre Dame to stay in Cleveland with her mom when she got pregnant.
He took his baseball cap out from under his arm. “See you at home, Patsy.”
“See ya, Dad. Thanks for this.” She held up the envelope.
After he was gone, Martha heard footsteps behind her. “Patsy?” There was a slight bit of teasing in Victoria’s voice.
Martha shrugged. “What? Your parents never called you anything weird?”
Victoria looked stung and Martha backed off. “Sorry,” she said.
“You okay?” asked Victoria.
Martha nodded. “I’m fine. Patsy was Martha Washington’s childhood nickname. My dad’s always called me that. He thinks I’m like her. Like I’m going to grow up and be…” Remarkable. That was the word he always used. “Whatever. It’s just a dumb nickname.”
Victoria smiled. “I don’t think it’s dumb. I think it’s really sweet, actually.”
Martha shrugged. Not because she hated the nickname. Quite the opposite. She loved it. It’s just that standing there, clutching that envelope, she didn’t feel remarkable.