He laughs and says, “Damn, I needed that this morning.”
“She’s pregnant with my baby, Hank. I’m going to marry her and I’m not taking her to Vegas so you only find out about it when it happens. I want you to give her away just like you’ve always wanted to.”
“All right, all right,” he says, “That’s enough.” I don’t respond and after a moment of silence, he says, “Jesus Christ.” I still don’t respond, and he asks, “Here or there?” The tone of that last part underscores the tension of the situation.
“We’ll be right over,” I reply. When I do, Mack instantly tenses. It’s a fight or flight response. I imagine if her face was spotlighted, she would look just like one of those horror movie girls right before the scream. I slide my hand to hers and squeeze her hand.
“Do you know what discipline is, Mack?” I ask.
“What?” she asks in a whisper.
“Discipline is making the decision to face pain now to avoid more pain later.” I stand and lift her hand. She hesitates just a few seconds but then nods and stands up. “Do you want to drive your own car or ride with me?”
“You won’t hurt him, will you?” That surprises me. There will definitely be posturing. There might indeed be a fight. What surprises me is her assumption that I have the advantage when it comes to a physical confrontation with her father. She’s right about that. The only man I trust more than Hank in a fight is me. If anyone gets hurt, it will be him. To me, it’s obvious but it’s still surprising that she knows.
“Nobody is getting hurt today,” I say. It’s a lie. I’m getting hurt. It’s nothing I won’t recover from but unless I’m completely wrong about how things go, I’m getting hurt. “Ride with me?”
She shakes her head. “I want to, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” She’s probably right about that, too.
“Okay,” I say, “But you follow me to your place. I don’t want you going into the house to face things alone.” Her eyes grow wide at the comment. It’s gratitude and, I suppose, surprise that anyone cares about her feelings. Even now, it surprises her. For God’s sake is everything I do going to make her act like I’m some kind of hero? I have to look away. A girl like that can make a man believe he’s what she sees him as.
I get her into her car first and then get into mine. I adjust the mirror so it focuses entirely on what’s directly behind me. Usually, it’s angled so I can see the sidewalk on the passenger side as I drive. Usually, we’re looking for people going in and out of establishments, not already in their cars. We start the journey, and I can’t pretend I drive slowly for traffic safety reasons. I don’t want to face my best friend any more than she wants to face her father.
It's still the right thing to do. I pull up to the house and Mack turns into the driveway while I park on the street. I get out and walk to her. My movements are quick because if Hank is watching me, and I’m pretty sure he is, I want him to see me walking without any tentativeness. I want him to see me arriving here without any sense of shame or guilt. I want it clear to him I don’t think I’m in the wrong even if he doesn’t like it.
Although, I guess, I don’t feel that way. Iamin the wrong.
No. That’s not true. I was in the wrong. I suppose it was wrong for me to ever allow myself to get this far. Hell, it was wrong to allow myself to take the first steps. That was wrong but not now. Now, what exists between McKenzie and me is something worth protecting, something worth dying for. My mistake, if there is one, occurs at the very beginning. There’s no mistake in play right now.
The door opens when we’re still on the pathway from the driveway to the door. I let go of Mack’s hand and push her back slightly. I keep walking. “You son of a bitch,” Hank says darkly and swings wildly. The haymaker he throws is a horrible punch and indicates just how upset he is.
With a haymaker, I can just drop, wrap my arms around him and tackle him.
With a haymaker, I can just lift my leg in a kick to his gut.
With a haymaker, I can just lean back and then lunge forward with a right hook of my own.
I do none of those things. I just stand there and let his fist connect.
Mack lets out a wordless cry and I hear her mother shout, “Henry!”
“I’m fine, Gloria,” Hank says, his voice far more controlled. “I just needed that one. Grant’s fine, too. That was a shitty punch. I just needed to release some anger, I didn’t want to hurt him.”
The reality is that even if he wanted to hurt me, he’d only succeed if I allowed him, but I know he needs to feel that the opposite is true, so I just nod to Gloria and say, “He’s right. I’m fine.”
“Mackenzie,” Hank says, “Go with your mother.”
“No!” Mack says, “Dad—”
“Now,” Hank repeats.
His eyes never leave mine and mine don’t leave his when I say, “Go ahead, Mack. It’s okay.”
Mack tentatively walks inside to her waiting mother, who casts a look at me that hurts me far worse than Hank’s punch did. I don’t feel the slightest shred of guilt, but I definitely feel the harshness of Hank and Gloria’s judgment.
Hank walks past me wordlessly and I turn and follow him. He leads me a few dozen yards from the house, then stops at the corner of the street. “You want a smoke?” he asks, pulling a pack from his pocket.
“No, thanks,” I say. “Since when do you smoke?”