Drowning

Chapter 53:

When I walked in the front door of my house, my Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a plate of leftover spaghetti. I really did not want to face him right now. I was keeping so many secrets at this point; one of them was bound to spew out if I opened my mouth.

"Hey, Dad," I said, moving past him quickly to go upstairs.

"Come on in. I'll nuke you some leftovers. You need to eat. You're looking too skinny."

He wouldn't be saying I look skinny much longer.

I placed my stuff at the bottom of the steps and walked into the kitchen with him. He loaded another plate into the microwave and turned it on. I watched through the microwave window as the plate spun round and round. That was me, spinning round and round, going nowhere fast. Eighteen and knocked up by my brother's friend who liked to drink too much and fight anyone who got in his way, which included me. I was a real masterpiece.

"How have you been?" Dad asked me and I snapped my head up to look at him when he spoke. I just knew he said something, but I wasn't sure what he just asked me.

"Huh?" I asked and he looked at me suspiciously.

"I haven't seen you much lately." He tapped his fingers on the counter, drumming against it, reminding me of when I snapped at JD for doing the same thing.

"I've just been busy, Dad." I tried to smile at him.

"I know you're a grownup now and you don't need dear old Dad. It doesn't mean I don't miss you when I don't get a chance to see you." He reached his out to grab mine and hold it.

I rolled my eyes at him and he laughed.

"You are exactly like your Mother. Too headstrong for your own good." He shook his head.

The microwave beeped and he walked over to open it to pull the plate out. He took a fork and mixed it up to make sure it had all gotten warm for me so I wouldn't burn my mouth when I inevitably would just shovel it in without testing it first. He knew me too well. I snickered to myself as I watched him blow on the steam before handing it to me. No matter how old I got, he would still treat me like his little girl.

"Here you go, peanut, dig in. Be careful, though. It might be a little hot still." He sat the plate in front of me. "Your Mom still hasn't mastered the art of cooking for two people. I've been eating leftover spaghetti for two days now. I need all the help I can get. I think we should get a dog. I could feed it the leftovers and tell your Mom we ate them all."

I laughed at my Dad's silly joke. He was trying to lighten the mood in the room. He could read me and knew something was not quite right. I pushed the noodles around the plate, not sure what to do with them. My eyes were starting to water as I replayed the whole Ezra situation in my head. If I chose to keep this baby, would I be able to give it a life like I had? Would he ever step up to be a father? Was keeping this baby really going to be an option for me?

"Riley, are you ok?" Dad eyed me with concern.

"Dad," I fought the lump in my throat. "How do you know you are making the right decision about something?"

He stopped and thought for a minute. "Honey, you are the one who knows what is best for you. You have to decide if the decision is something you can live with and stand behind. Making a decision is not always easy, but the things that matter most in life are never easy. Is there something you want to talk about?" He asked without judgment.

"No. I just needed my dear old Dad's advice to help me straighten my brain out."

I knew what my decision was. There was never really any other choice for me. I was keeping the baby.