Free Stranger in Dadland by Amy Goldman Koss Page B

Dad asked. “And what’s with the
name?
”
    I got control of myself. “He’s Liz’s boyfriend,” I said. “At least, he was.”
    “Did I hear you say he shaves his head? Our Liz is a classy gal,” Dad said. “She can do better than a guy like that!”
    I was glad Dad thought Liz was classy; I’d have to tell her that. But he didn’t know Jet. “He’s a nice guy,” I said. “I like him. We all do.”
    Did I see Dad wince when I said
all?
Because the
all
-didn’t include him?
    No, I must’ve imagined it.
    Dad clapped his hands. End of Liz-Jet discussion. “
So
,” he said, “do you just want to stay here today? Swim with Beau?”
    I shrugged. “What are
you
going to do?”
    “Nothing. It’s Sunday.”
    “You mean you don’t have to work?” I asked.
    “Nope.”
    “Not at
all?
”
    Dad shook his head. “No.”
    “No barbecues? Beach plans?”
    Dad squinted at me. “Are you trying to tell me something here, Big Guy?”
    I shook my head. “It’s just…you usually have a lot of stuff planned,” I stammered.
    “Well, we
were
going to go sailing with Cora and some of her friends today,” Dad said. “But plans have changed.”
    That made more sense. Of course Dad hadn’t
deliberately
left a day open for me—but still. “You mean we could do something, just
us?
” I asked.
    “Sure,” Dad said, looking surprised. “Is there something special you wanted to do? You want to go for a drive? Or, I don’t know, horseback riding? Or there’s a batting cage up on Lexington.”
    My dad was actually asking me what I wanted to do with him today. Him and me. I’m allergic to horses and I’m not much of a batter. But I didn’t want to wreck this. I tried to think fast—what do guys do with their dads? I mean normal guys. Go fishing? Hunting?
    “You don’t play golf, do you?” Dad asked.
    Ack!
This was it—the moment when we’d get to know each other, father to son. Man to man. But I couldn’t think of a
thing
to tell him about me! What
did
I like to do? My mind was blank. “I’m not too athletic,” I confessed, “except for swimming—and Jet taught me to Rollerblade.”
    Dad lit up. “Rollerblade? No kidding. You any good at it?”
    “Not bad,” I admitted.
    “Think you could teach your old man? There’s a place that rents skates down on the pier.”
    “Sure!” I said. “You bet!”
    “Terrific! I’ve always wanted to try that,” Dad said. “I’ll just go for my run, take a quick shower, and we’ll be off.”
    “Cool!” I grinned. Then I tried to grin a little less. I didn’t want to look like Ditz, wiggling with joy at the mention of a walk. I calmly sipped my horrendous, and now cold, coffee, as if going Rollerblading with my dad was no big thing.
    Not two seconds after Dad jogged out the door, Beau showed up. I wanted to shoo him away, afraid Dad wouldinvite him along if he caught sight of him. But I also wanted to brag a bit.
    Beau loped in and collapsed in a chair. “Wanna go to the corner, get something to eat?” he asked.
    Actually, I was starving, but I wasn’t sure how long Dad ran, and if I was late, the whole plan might get screwed up.
    “When my dad gets back, we’re going Rollerblading,” I said. Then I added, “Just
him
and
me.
”
    “Well, that gives us forty-eight minutes,” Beau said, not taking offense.
    Beau and his bottomless knowledge of my dad!
    “So, whatcha think?” he asked.
    “Well, let’s hurry, then!” I said, and I wrote Dad a quick note. I put it on the phone because for sure he’d notice it there. But then I froze, wondering if I should leave the door open for him or lock it.
    “He’s got his key,” Beau said.
    That was the last straw. “Why do you know so much about my father?” I asked, practically stamping my foot. “You’ve got your
own
father.”
    Beau backed away, putting his hands up as if to fend off my punches. “Harsh!” he said. “Harsh words before breakfast!”
    I felt like a jerk but I didn’t back