make it easy. Then Stu sent me back. Then Stu tricked me at Christmas and almost gave me a fucking nervous breakdown… Sorry. About the swearing.”
“Courtney, you can swear your head off in here. As much as you want. I’m not here to judge. Go on.”
“So then I’m back with Dad and what’s the first thing we have to think about? How about Kelly? Let’s let Kelly come into the family!”
“Don’t you like Kelly?”
“She’s all right. She’s even nice, sort of. She can be funny. I like her sister better but her sister is hooked up to Colin, who I also like. It’s not that I don’t like her.”
“Then what is it?”
“What if they get married and something happens? What if Dad dies, then Kelly has me, then Kelly gives me back to Stu, then Stu gives me back to Kelly, then Kelly finds some guy to marry and she dies and so on? Huh? You think I feel like doing all that again?”
“Apparently it’s the uncertainty of the future that bothers you most. Frightens you.”
“Duh,” she said.
“Maybe you should talk to your dad about this.”
“What’s he going to say? That he’s not going to die? He can! I think it’s better if it’s just us. Me and him. We don’t need anyone else.”
Jerry waited it out, like he was expecting her to say something more. Finally he said, “But you do. Courtney, you do need other people. And right now, one of the things you need to know is what plans your dad has for you if anything should happen to him. Not only is there a possible new woman in your future, but your dad also has family in Idaho. Family you like. As for Kelly, she has family you like. Why don’t you try to get some of these questions answered before you put this kind of pressure on yourself?”
“What pressure? It’s no pressure on me! If he wasn’t sad, I wouldn’t be sad!”
“But that’s where you’re wrong—this situation that you’ve outlined, just you and him and the rest of the world stay away—this puts an enormous burden on you. You’re fourteen and a half, almost fifteen. Very soon there’s going to be a boyfriend if there isn’t already, and he’s only going to be the first boyfriend. You’re going to get older, spread your wings, go to college, travel the world, find new boyfriends and more best female friends. In a few years, about three and a half, you’re not going to be living with your dad every day, every night. You’re probably going to be living in a dorm or apartment with girlfriends. You’re going to fall in love. You might fall in love more than once. You might go back to your dad’s now and then, maybe even for long stretches like a couple of months at a time. But it’s your job to build a life outside of your dad’s house. And then you’re going to want to bring some of that life back to him to share—like your boyfriend, your fiancé, your husband and children…”
“That is not happening anytime soon!”
“Sooner than you think. What about your dad? Don’t you worry that he’ll be lonely when you start to spread your wings?”
“We can worry about that later…”
“I see. Well, just so you know, they don’t allow fathers to live in sorority houses with their daughters.”
“Funny. You’re so funny…”
“Courtney, you’re not only asking him to remain lonely and sad so that you can feel safe, but you’re asking yourself to keep all the important people of your future away so you can dedicate yourself to him so you can feel safe. And you’ll be lonely.” Jerry shook his head. “That’s the hard way.”
“Then what’s the easy way?”
“Tell your dad you’ve been stressed out about your future, about where you would go and what you would do if anything should happen to him. Talk it out.”
“He’ll just say—”
“Lief Holbrook lost a young wife in a completely tragic and unpredictable brain hemorrhage. He is not going to say it can’t happen.” Jerry paused. “And if there’s the slightest worry that you might be a little afraid of getting attached to someone like Kelly and losing her somehow, you could talk about that, as well.”
She just shrugged. And gave a little sniff, though she wasn’t going to cry.
“You’re not unique, you know,” Jerry said. “It’s not even a teenage thing, Courtney. It’s a very normal, human frailty we all have, to be afraid someone we love could