The Edge of Tomorrow

2

"Oh, Becca! You didn't tell me you made another friend?" Mom said with a gin. Couldn't do a better job at pointing out that I was socially conservative. Richie chuckled, that boyish laughter that always had my cheeks and neck turning warm. He was too hot—made me wonder what he saw in a social piranha.

"Oh, um..." I started, but Richie chimed in:

"How could I forget? I brought this for both you and your husband." He fished into his back pocket and took out two strips of long, white paper. Tickets. "To the Carrolton Show."

My mom squealed.

The Carrolton Show was an event hosted by a long-time local music group. They started out in the seventies and were active until the early two-thousands. Now every year they did short, little series of performances at the Downtown Theatre Centre. My parents always wanted to attend, but just couldn't find it within them to spend money on it. How did Richie even know this? I tried to recall if I had mentioned it that night at the party, but I don't think I did. Or was it all just a coincidence? Most adults in our area loved the show.

Then Dad finally stepped out of his study cave for the day. His footsteps sounded against the stairs as he made his way down, still clutching his office books under his arm. My father was obsessed with working so much, it worried me.

"Oh, Ben! You're gonna love this. Becca here, brought a new friend, and he so lovingly got us tickets to the Carrolton show!" Mom gushed, and I shuffled on my feet, embarrassed.

My parents made it seem as though me making another friend, meant the world would end. They didn't quite fancy Tee. They said she was too...open. "She stands for nothing." Dad would say, "And people like that are easily influenced. Is she smoking pot?"

"Lovely, you are?" Dad asked as he came to a stop in front of Richie. He had on his fatherly armor—the type that implied: "are you having sex with my daughter?"

Sex? No. Making out behind mailboxes in black Honda Accords? Maybe.

"Richie." He left his last name off as he took my dad up in a handshake. "I'm Becca's friend. Presumably soon-to-be-boyfriend."

I covered my face. "Oh my God."

Dad laughed. "Say what now?"

Mom chuckled and pocketed the tickets, rubbing her husband's shoulder. "It's fine. They're young. Let them explore. You just go upstairs and find something to wear tonight. We aren't missing this show."

Dad sighed, as my gaze caught Richie's. His eyes softened as he tried to tell me he was sorry with them. I looked away.

"I have work, Sasha. Come on..."

"Work on a Saturday?" Richie asked, looking at me then back at my dad. He looked confused. Anyone would be. My father worked on public holidays. On Christmas, New Year's Eve. One time he even had his laptop next to the turkey at Thanksgiving.

"My husband loves his job," Mom said, but I heard the frustration in her voice. As though she were waiting for an outsider to bring it up. "He works twenty-four eight."

"That's 'cause I'm good at what I do," Dad boasted, then surprised everyone when he nudged Richie's arm with his elbow. "Hey, son, you should know that I got a great job offer the other day. Assistant Manager of the Department of Sales..."

Mom pushed her lips up with feign annoyance, smiling while she did.

My hands sweated, and I crossed my arms against my chest. My eyes met Richie, who was only looking at my Dad. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, magnificent, huh? If that doesn't freakin' prove how good at my job I am, I don't know what does!"

Richie realized that I hadn't told him anything and brought his eyes to me. His brows furrowed slightly, and his lips parted in comprehension.