Dad is waiting for me

he closes his book when I come in
and points at a chair in the
living room.
Gabby flicks off the TV
but stays

“He seems like a nice boy,” Dad says.

“He’s nice enough,” I say.

“He’s older than you,” Dad points out.

“Just two years. It’s no different than dating
a senior when you’re a sophomore.”

“So you’re dating?” Dad’s voice rises just a bit.

“I didn’t say that. We’re friends.”

“He doesn’t look at you like a friend.” This is from
Gabby and Dad reacts to her observation.

“We’re just friends,” I repeat. “I barely know him.”

Dad leans forward and asks the inevitable question.
“Does he know God?”

I don’t know the answer to this because
it’s never come up in the few conversations we’ve had.
But I don’t really want to admit this.
“We barely know each other,” I say and I add
an exasperated sigh letting him know that
his third degree is a bit premature.

“I think you should have that conversation Lucy.
Before you get in over your head.”

I think it’s probably too late.