No, really. I’m not making this up. He is that guy. In real life. Captain America.
“I just wanted to say goodbye before I head off-base,” he smiles at me, instantly transforming into the warm, reliable father figure I adore.
I tuck the towel securely under my arm so that I am properly covered before rushing toward him. At the last second, I stop.
“Oh, wait, I’m covered in sunscreen,” I explain, disappointed.
“Too late,” he announces as he takes me in a full hug, kissing the top of my head tenderly. “I will just have to smell like coconut the rest of the day. It’s a small price to pay.”
Mona hovers behind me, subtly posing but not daring to really throw herself at him. I’m glad, because then we could not be friends. I can accept her crush, but that would definitely be too far.
“Are you really going to be gone for two weeks?” I mumble into his jacket.
“That’s what they’re telling me,” he answers, which is his standard answer.
Sometimes things go long. Sometimes he’s back earlier than expected. You just never really know. It’s whatever he is asked to do.
“Okay, well, be safe!” Which is my standard answer.
He can’t really tell me what he is going to do, and I know better than to ask. But he never makes me feel unsafe, and I never throw guilt trips at him. Well, not in the last five years or so. When I was younger, I would go full tantrum any time he tried to leave me with my grandparents or one of the aunts. But once we moved to North Carolina, we made a deal: he would trust me to be by myself for small amounts of time, and I would trust him to always return in one piece.
Seems to be working out so far.
“I’ll miss you,” he murmurs before pulling away, flashing me his famous smile before he changes his expression to the serious, guarded gentleman that he shows to everyone else in the world. That’s the brief, professional glance he offers Mona before he retreats into the house.
When he is safely away, Mona fans herself extravagantly, rolling her eyes and pretending to swoon.
“What a man!” she declares, affecting the Southern Belle accent that really grates on my nerves. “Why, is it me or is the sun just blazing today? I feel… absolutely twitterpated!”
I open the screen door and gesture that she follow me inside. “Yeah, yeah, get a grip,” I mutter.
Theatrically, she refuses to get a grip and sashays into the small, wood-paneled den still fanning herself with her hand.
“No… I really feel I am past the point where I can turn back! Libby… oh, Liberty Jane, the room is going dark!”
“That’s because we just got inside,” I grumble, barely playing along with her spontaneous drama.
Like a sheepdog, I shuffle behind her, gently nudging her toward the front door. Every few seconds, she turns around to make sure that I am still annoyed. It seems to give her pleasure. When I finally get her all the way to the foyer, she changes her demeanor instantly, giving me a wrinkled-nose smile and innocent shrug.
“Okay, well if you will not let me dress you, I will send you a list of outfits I would deem acceptable, okay? Pick you up at eight thirty?”
A little voice chirps somewhere deep inside my brain, suggesting that maybe this is a more dangerous idea than Mona is really admitting. Krazy Mart is safe. Krazy Mart is boring.
But Krazy Mart is also pretty cheap.
“Okay, eight thirty,” I finally agree, pasting a thin smile on my face. “And you can send me that list of outfits. But I’m not making any promises.”
She raises a fist of triumph. “Yes!” she announces, before striding out the front door and jogging across the small front lawn that separates our driveways.
It’s nice to give her a little bit of joy, and I’m sure it’s going to be a good time. Absolutely sure. What could go wrong?
Chapter 3
Libby
Once my dad is on the road for a solid thirty minutes, I feel pretty confident that he isn’t coming back and can take some time to get ready. After a brief shower, I douse my skin in vitamin E, hoping to counteract whatever damage the sun just did to it.
Padding shamelessly naked around our small but efficient house, I fix myself a snack and pin up my hair into curlers while I consider what to wear.