friends, same hangout spots. Old feelings linger like they say. It’s nothing serious, just seeing each other.”
Lies. Lies. So many lies. My stomach churns with keeping the truth from my parents because the people-pleasing little girl inside me knows that she should seek any method of approval.
But adult me? I’m apprehensive. My guard is up.
My father nods as Mom sets his plate down in front of him and moves to sit on the other side, between us.
“And so, you think this is a good idea?” He’s trying not to give his feelings away, but I can hear the disapproval in his words.
“Eric! Naturally, it’s a good idea. They love each other.” Mom rolls her eyes at him.
My father stops his fork midway to his mouth when she says the word love. He sets it down, looks at me.
“You do remember that this is the boy who almost killed you?”
My skin peppers with goose bumps. “He didn’t almost kill me. We were in an unavoidable car crash, and he himself lost a lot that day as well.”
It’s no secret to me, or to Bowen, or to anyone in Fawn Hill, that my father has never liked Bowen Nash. I remember the arguments we used to get into when I was in high school and blindly in love with Bowen. My father thought he was a bad influence, that he was too old for me, that he was just a jock who was using me for the one thing teenage boys are after. My curfew was limited, I fought with my father about going to the Nash’s for dinner, and one time, my father even had the gall to sic the cops on Bowen when he brought me home three minutes too late on the night of his junior prom.
And now this again. After I woke up from my coma, my father didn’t start his propaganda against Bowen right away. But he may as well have. Over the course of the next year after the accident, Dad would try to poison my mind and my heart against him. Calling him irresponsible, a degenerate, reckless, and dangerous. Any chance he could, my father would remind me that Bowen abandoned me in the hospital, and until Penelope set me straight, he even tried to convince me that Bowen left me on that road without calling for help.
I know that where my father was concerned, there were still inconsistencies with what really happened the night of the accident and following it. But who knew he’d still be wielding his torch of hate all these years later.
“Oh, he lost a baseball career that would probably have flamed out anyway. You were always too good for him, Lily, and that was demonstrated in the fact that even when he left you in the hospital, when he wouldn’t return your letters or calls, you still forgave him. I don’t see why you would be seeking affection from that scared little boy again.”
He says all of this in a jovial way, as if his point is the most accurate and most obvious.
Mom’s eyes narrow in his direction, but he just tucks into his plate of leftovers and begins to check his phone. “Eric, what has gotten into you? The girl hasn’t laid eyes on a man in over ten years, don’t you think there is a reason for that? This is a good thing.”
They’re speaking about me as if I’m not here, and suddenly, I’m seven again. No, not again. I’ve always been this obedient, insignificant thing that they can place in one spot and demand it do things. Smile, don’t speak unless spoken to, be home by curfew, no elbows on the table, dance with this advisor, don’t date this boy, stay at home instead of moving out.
All of it rushes at me at once, and I fly out of my seat. Before I know what’s happening, my finger is in my father’s face.
“How dare you! Talking about Bowen in that way … it’s slanderous. He is a good man.”
I can’t seem to summon all the words I would use to describe Bowen’s goodness, because there are simply too many. And something tells me they’d be lost on my father.
He blinks up at me, his eyes actually resembling the father’s I once knew. “Sweetheart, I’m simply trying to protect you. The Nash boys … they seem to find themselves in trouble. First with your car accident, and that younger one with those meth dealers. The other one is