"Even before I overheard that conversation, I knew why you were here." Seth takes a step toward me. "That first night at dinner it was clear you were lonely and desperate to get him to come home."
My breath catches and it's audible to both of us. How. Dare. He. At least now I know how he's been describing me to other people. Lonely and desperate.
"So what's the bottom line here?" My voice is shaking from anger. "You're going to tell Renata and Dad what I said, aren’t you?"
"No, you go ahead and execute your plan. If your dad can be convinced to turn tail and run that easily, he doesn't deserve her."
A low growl escapes my mouth, and I feel myself moving forward, too. There's only about a foot of space between us now, and I’m so close I can hear his breathing. Seth's eyes flicker to my lips for a fraction of a second, and I lick my bottom lip unconsciously in response.
I see what Seth's doing here. If Dad leaves with me, he looks weak-willed. If he stays, I'm alone in New York. Either way, I'm in a losing position. He has miscalculated though. I'm not going to let his opinions of my father stop me from getting him the hell out of here. Sure, I'll need to reflect later on my odd need for other people to esteem my father as highly as I do, but that's why I have a therapist on call in New York. There's no time for psychoanalysis right now.
"I think it's interesting that you're lecturing me on interfering in my dad's life. You, the single guy who built a house on his mother's property."
Seth's nostrils flare, and I know I've hit a tender spot. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I look pointedly at Mutt then back at Seth. "Maybe I'm not the only lonely and desperate person here."
Seth doesn't try to stop me as I stalk away, and the imaginary scoreboard lights up with the points I just made. Having the last word should feel better than this.
The last thing I hear is Mutt's sad whine as he watches me go.
Six
The farmer'smarket doesn't open until seven o'clock, but Dad and I are on the road by five. Me: grumpy and bleary eyed. Dad: annoyingly chipper and chatty. It should take us less than a half hour to get there, and I'm not sure why we need an hour and a half to set up a table for the cheese and eggs, but I'm not in charge. Dad is such a super freak about being on time for every event that he arrives ridiculously early. When we go to ball games, we roll into an empty parking lot and watch the grounds crew prepare the field for an hour. Arguing with him about it is useless so I got up today at the butt crack of dawn and pulled on shorts, a tank top and a baseball hat without even bothering to shower. I'm only going to get sweaty in this heat anyway.
The sky is burnished with pinks and golds, and there's no denying the beauty of a morning drive on a country road. The college radio station is playing mellow indie rock, we have thermoses of good coffee, and the air is still cool enough to leave the windows open. It's the perfect morning, or it would be if my life weren't in turmoil.
I look over at Dad's contented expression as he directs the pickup down a sloping hill and around a bend in the road. Today we'll have a lot of alone time, and it's the perfect opportunity to discuss his future. I have to be careful how I approach it, but I know there's a way to convince him that he and Renata should move back to New York.
When we're a few miles down the road, and I'm awake enough to talk, I ask Dad what he's planning to do about his apartment and all his stuff in it. When he drove down here, he brought one suitcase with him because he was only planning on staying for the summer.
"I'll fly back to New York in a month or two and rent a U-Haul to bring the rest of my stuff down here. I wanted to talk to you about my apartment. I know you like living near the park, but if you took over my place, you'd be paying a quarter of what you do now, and you wouldn't need a roommate."
When Mom left, Dad suddenly had to cover the entire rent by himself. We couldn't afford our Brooklyn Heights apartment anymore, and, to my horror, Dad found us a rent-controlled two-bedroom on a fairly seedy street in Red Hook, Brooklyn. I was motherless and living in what felt like the edge of nowhere, an industrial port full of towering cranes and packing containers.
Over the years, gentrification spread through Brooklyn like a disease, and Red Hook was one of many areas that transformed. Now Dad lives amidst small batch breweries and artisan chocolate stores. It's a shame he didn't invest in property back in the day because the townhouses in Red Hook that were once dirt cheap sell for about three million dollars today. The only downside to it is the lack of subway access in the area.
"It would be a bear trying to get to work every day," I say. "I'd have to take the bus to get to the subway.
I'd be looking at almost an hour commute, if the trains were actually running on time.”
"You could buy a car," he says.
"With what money? My credit is good, but car payments would take up all the cash I'd save in rent by living there."
"Maybe you could take my car," he suggests. "I don't really need it down here. We've got the pickup, and I rarely go into town without Renata."
I sense an opening, and my heart rate picks up.
"Maybe you should keep your place for a while. In case things don't work out down here."
I stare out the window at a cornfield that’s been stripped clean because I can't meet his eyes. Dad doesn't speak for what's probably a minute, but feels like eternity.
"Things are going to work out with Renata and me," he says, and I'm relived there's no anger in his voice, just conviction.
"Of course." I know not to push it too far. I need to plant seeds, not run a lawnmower over him. "I'm just saying it's wise to keep your apartment for now. In case you guys decide you want to live in the city instead of down here. Or, you know, if the business doesn't pan out like you want it to."
"You like Renata, don't you?" he asks.
