Even before he sat me down, I knew my father was seeing someone. It was the jeans. Conrad Morrison never wore jeans. There are pictures of my childhood and even when he went to the beach he wore a suit. There is something so strange about photographs of birthday parties and days at the beach and knowing your father was always in the same suit. It was as though he thought at any moment he would be called for a business meeting, or something. Lately though, something had shifted, and it was all blue jeans and button down shirts. He had even presented the idea of casual Friday’s at his office, which his co-workers loved and adored him for.

It was all very strange, but easy to figure out.

“Naomi,” he approached me as I sat on the deck, reading. The summer heat was coming to an end. September’s chill was already beginning to intrude into dusk, chilling everything around me.

I laughed slightly, putting down The Great Gatsby and turned to him. “Dad, come on, I’m not twelve.” I remembered back to the days when my mother first left, and the way I would sit on the porch, waiting to see her car pull back into the driveway. All I wanted was for her to tell me she never meant to leave. That everything had just been some huge mistake. “Who is she?”

With mouth a gap—shocked his daughter had figured him out—dad told me who “she” was. Lily Hudson, who worked with my dad at his office. I had met her a couple times, at the work things dad had been dragging me to since I was fourteen. She was new to Dalkery, and wore lipstick hooker red. She was bleach blonde, and young. Too young for a guy my father's age. And, if I remembered correctly, at the last party—which had only been three weeks before—she had shown off the large engagement ring her fiancé had given her. “We’re planning a October wedding,” she smiled, showing of the rock, which must have cost a fortune. “We want to do it as soon as possible. You know how it is.”

“Dad,” I started, remembering this. “Isn’t Lily... engaged?”

“Well…” his voice trailed off slightly, and I could see him nervously staring at his hands. Again, I had obviously caught him off guard. If someone had asked, I never would have pegged my dad for the adultery type. “That’s the other thing.”

“You’re having an affair with a betrothed women?” I asked him point blank. Was I supposed to be angry with him for doing it, or happy with telling me? He was my dad, so I figured as long as he promised to break it off then I could forgive him. After all, he had told me.

His was still staring at his hands, an annoying habit of his. I must have gotten my stare-you-in-the-eyes glances from my mother. “Well,” his voice was shaking, and I wondered how innocent he thought I was, like I couldn't take it. This was the modern world, after all. Who wasn't cheating/sleeping around/breaking up relationships? I paused, waiting. He had stepped out onto the deck to talk to me, to confess something. Maybe he hadn’t planned on me figuring it out quite so quickly. I was a relationship Nancy Drew, apparently. “You see,” he stuttered again.

“Dad, come on, spit it out.”

“I’m Lily’s fiancé,” he said finally, blurting it out loudly and quickly. My stomach flipped, and I could no longer feel the ground. I definately hadn't been expecting that.

“What?”

Dad stood up quickly and grabbed the newspaper he had been carrying off the chair where he had dropped it. Skimming over some pages he dropped the wedding announcement page on my knee. Lily and my father—in jeans, no less—stared happily towards the camera, beaming. DALKERY BUSINESS MAN TO MARRY the caption below it read. My eyes met his quickly, and I stared dumbfounded.

“You can’t be serious?” I pushed the paper away from me, and it landed with a soft flutter on the wood grain. “You can’t be getting married. You haven’t even officially introduced me to her yet.”

Dad refolded the paper. “We were waiting for the right moment.”

I hated how he said “we” now, as though Lily was this permanent fixture in his life, the person he had to run all his ideas by. Once upon a time, the “we” in his life had been me. “What were you waiting for?” I ran my hands through my hair, pushing it back. Suddenly I was very warm, suffocating almost, “The fucking wedding reception?” the words escaped even before I knew what I was saying. I had never sworn at my father before, barely raised my voice. We didn’t fight.

“Watch yourself.” He warned.

Pushing past him, leaving everything behind, I rushed back into the house slamming doors. Behind me, I could hear him calling my voice, but didn’t turn around. Walking through the house I dropped my cell phone against the kitchen floor, and found myself out the back door and cutting across my neighbors lawn. Mr. and Mrs. Laurie were sitting on their deck, the smell of barbeque wafting through the air. They called towards me, cheery as usual, but I jumped over their fence and found myself stomping down the curb.

Dad was engaged, set to be married, and I hadn’t even officially met the girl. Everything was making sense though. The way she had talked to me at the party, asking too many questions. The way she winked at me after announcing “we want to do it as soon as possible, you know how it is.” Kicking a rock, it skipped over the gravel, landing with a thud in the grass. How could dad just propose to someone without even asking if I would be okay with it? Dating was fine, a little weird, but fine. This was jumping right over that, and I couldn’t believe he wouldn’t tell me.

A car honked its horn behind me, and I turned around just in time for dad to pull up beside me. “You’re acting like a child, Naomi,” What did he expect? That he would tell me he was engaged, we’d share a sundae, and everything would be fine. I wasn’t a twelve-year-old anymore, and ice cream couldn’t solve all my problems. This was his fault. If he had been a normal, caring, dad and just introduced everything slowly I would have been more than welcome to throw rice at his wedding, smile and wish “congratulations.” He was the one jumping into everything. “Let’s go back to the house and we’ll talk about this,” there was a pause, and I glanced over for a second, “Lily is going to make us supper tonight. We wanted to talk about the wedding arrangements with you.” Now I got to be included? How kind of him.

Another rock skipped across the gravel.

“I am not sharing a meal with her,” I told him, crossing my hands tightly against my chest. “I’m spending the night at Sophie’s house.” Of course, I hadn’t actually called Sophie yet, but I knew that she would welcome me with open arms. Her mother was probably making a big family meal. They didn’t keep secrets from each other, surprise each other with new family members. “I’m not ready to look at you.”

“Fine.” Dad sighed, speeding off pissed. He didn’t get to be the mad frustrated one. He was the bad guy in all of this, not me.

By the time I reached Sophie’s door, I was even more frustrated. Kicking rocks—and picturing my father’s head—had worked me up even more and it felt like nothing would calm me down. “Naomi,” she stepped back, welcoming me in, “What’s wrong?” Rushing into the house, I could smell the newly baked cookies, fresh out of the oven. Sophie’s mom stepped out of the kitchen, flour brushed against her cheek. “We’re just going to be upstairs, is that okay mom?”

Her mom smiled, “Of course sweetie. Naomi, would you like something to eat. We have some left over lasagna in the fridge.”

“I would love some.”

“Okay,” her mom had the softest smile, which brought you in and made you feel safe. My mother had never smiled like that, or at all. She was always angry, always mad about something. “I’ll bring you up some in a couple minutes. And some cookies.” And then she was gone, returning to the kitchen and the smell of cookies. Sophie and I ran up the stairs.

“What’s going on?” She asked, closing her bedroom door.

I paused, inhaling and exhaling loudly. “My father,” all the way there I had been thinking about what to say, the way to tell the story of what happened. The words had rushed through my head, but I hadn’t quite found the way to say everything. I was still just too mad at him.

“Is this about him being engaged,” I stared towards her, wondering when she had become a mind reader. And then I remembered, “I saw the announcement in the newspaper. Dad showed me.” The stupid newspaper, and their stupid article and pictures. It didn’t even look like my father all that much. He looked younger, too tan. It was as though a stranger was staring at me.

Sniffing, I stumbled over my words, “I didn’t know.”

“He didn’t tell you he was getting engaged?” Sophie asked, confused. It was easier for her; her parents didn’t keep secrets from her. If she wanted to, she probably could tell her mom when she had sex for the first time. They seemed to share everything with each other.

“He didn’t tell me he was dating.”

Sophie stared at me, dumbfounded. She looked as shocked as I was when I saw the to-be-wed announcement. Like the rug had been ripped out from under her. “You can’t be serious, he didn’t tell you.” I shook my head. “That asshole.” My thoughts exactly. “That’s really fowl.”

“I don’t even think I’m going to go,” I told her, staring towards the ceiling. “I’m boycotting.”

Sophie stared at me, her expression changing, “Come on, I know you’re pissed and everything, but you can’t boycott. He’s your dad.” I shrugged. What was her point? He had lied, and therefore I didn’t want to be any part of it. “You know you would totally regret not going, right?”

I shook my head. “Doubtful."

“You’re just pissed off,” she decided, “You’ll get over it eventually.”

A couple hours later, after the sun had gone down and too many cookies, I found myself sitting on Sophie’s front steps, looking out into the night. Everyone in her house was sleeping soundly. They were so perfect sometimes. Her parents were madly in love with each other, she got amazing grades, and her older sister was happily married with two kids. Everything in her life had always been so perfectly perfect, that it made me wonder if she understood what was going on, or why I was so pissed. Her parents had never lied to her. They talked about everything so easily, the words flowing whenever there was a problem. Once upon a time, I thought dad and I could be like that. After all we only had each other to lean on. Now, I wasn’t so sure. There was that third person, looming in the distance, ready to change everything.

I couldn’t stay. I had to get out of there.

The lights in my house were dark, and I almost didn’t notice the figure sitting on the porch. The smell of tobacco smoke filled my nose as I stepped closer. “Hello,” the voice said as I stepped up towards the stairs. Usually, I would have slipped through the door, ignoring them. It was Lily sitting there, puffing away. “You’re father said you would probably try and sneak in.”

I remained quiet, staring at her.

What was her point?

“He’s asleep upstairs, but I was dying for a smoke.” She was wearing one of his old rocker t-shirts, the ones he kept under his bed where he thought I couldn’t steal them. “I know I should totally smoke, especially for the wedding, but it’s just so damned addicting.” Standing there, I wondered why I hadn’t already rushed into the house. Nothing was stopping me. Maybe I just wanted to see this woman—the one who had stolen my father from me—up close.

I sighed, kicking the grass. Even with all my father’s gardening and money spent on the best organic fertilizers, we still had weeds. Now they were just organic weeds.

“He’s sorry you know,” Lily told me.

I stared at her, “Excuse me.” My voice was rude and sharp.

“Your dad,” maybe she hadn’t heard my tone, or was ignoring it. “He wanted to tell you—I must have told him a thousand times, especially with the newspaper article—but he wanted to find the right time. The right moment.”

Super. “Whatever, I don’t care.”

Even when I was a kid, and even before my mother left, I didn’t act like this. I wasn’t a spoiled person. But there was something about the way my father was acting and this woman who was in his life now. I realized then that I missed the man always clad in a business suit, even when he was gardening, or traveling to the grocery store. There was something so comforting in the way I knew, every morning, he would walk into the kitchen in a suit, kiss me on the head, and grab a coffee.

“Naomi, what are you doing up?"

I hadn’t even noticed the front light flip on, or the shadow of my father standing there. Watching Lily, she flipped the cigarette over the porch. It landed on the front lawn, still burning, then smothered out. “Hi Darling.” She jumped up immediately, kissing him on the cheek. Fighting the urge to scream—or throw up—I turned my head away and stared out towards the darkened street. Looking back, I noticed dad staring at me. The front door closed, gently, and then it was just to two of us.

“What,” I started, “so now she lives here?”

Dad let out a loud sigh, “Naomi, I thought you said it’d been long enough and you didn’t care if I dated.”

“Dad, I said date. Not marry the first naive girl that gives it up to you.” Being a bachelor was fine, because dad was never really taken and if mom ever came back—although I gave up on that dream years ago—then there was always the chance they could get back together. Maybe it was silly and childish, but it wasn’t permanent like this. “I mean, how much do you even know about this women? You’ve only been dating five minutes.” Suddenly I felt like the parent, scolding their child. Dad was jumping into things, obviously, and he needed a voice of reason to bring him back.

There was a pause, and then he shook his head, “We weren’t dating five minutes Naomi.” He sounded tired, but I didn’t care.

“You’re right, more like five seconds.”

Standing there, our eyes stared into each other, and once again I didn’t recognize him. I hadn’t noticed it before, somehow, but he looked different. He was cutting his hair shorter now, and had last some serious wait. His skin was bronzed, as though part of his new personal involved weekly meetings with Lola at TANTASTIC! It scared me, these changes in him. Because if he wasn’t my father, if he was Lily’s Groom, then who was I. The spoiled child sent off to boarding school so they can enjoy their honeymoon.

“I wanted to tell you,” he said finally, his voice a little softer. Leaning against the wooden beam of our porch, he looked over I my direction. “Every time we made a wedding plan, or went on a date, I wanted to tell you.”

I sighed loudly, “It doesn’t matter that you wanted to tell me dad. You didn’t and that’s the end of the story.” My voice cracked slightly, and I could feel emotions, which had long since been dormant. “You cared more about Lily, and her stupid wedding plans, then you did your own daughter.” Breathing in, deep, I tried to collect myself. To let myself have the upper hand in the situation; he was the bad guy, not me. “I mean, she’s the replacement right? You marry her, and I’m gone off to college in a couple years, and everything’s good again—right?”

Slightly taken aback, I waited for him to tell me it was true, all of it. He didn’t love me as much anymore and he wanted someone better in the end. My life, my family, wasn’t perfect like Sophie’s. We were always running away, finding someone different to cling onto when the going got tough. Mom was the first one, taking off when she couldn’t handle a twelve year old and a husband. Now she lived in California, wore gauzy skirts and ran a water store with her hippy husband. I did it to, running off to Sophie and the comfort of her perfect family, when I couldn’t handle dad. And now dad would do it. Maybe he would never leave our towering house, but he was running none-the-less, shedding the person I knew.

“I’m not replacing you.” He told be, matter-of-fact.

The child was back, speaking for me. “Whatever.”

Dad stepped closer, closing the distance. He was wearing socks, which immediately got soaked standing in the dew. “Is that what you think, that I just want to replace you with Lily?”

“Yes.”

He laughed then, loud and full. His voice carried, filling the night air. No lights flip on though, telling him to shut up now. It was a small neighborhood, and they liked their sleep.

“What is so funny?” I asked, defensively.

“Do you honestly think that Lily is here to replace you?” He was still laughing, red-faced. “I mean honestly Naomi, if I wanted to replace you I’d buy a dog or a motorcycle, or adopt a kid.” He paused, waiting. “This isn’t about replacing you Naomi. This isn’t about you at all.” And then he paused again. “That came out wrong. All I want is for us to be a happy family, to fill the void that your mother left behind. You’re growing up, and soon you’ll have boy troubles and stuff, and you’ll need someone—who’s not your father—to talk to. Because honestly, knowing your growing up scares me.”

They were all reasonable and he looked so honest saying them, like the man that stood in front of me in a suit and tie, and helped build a macaroni Titanic for History Class even though his suit ended up covered in glue and macaroni. This was the man who tried sewing me a bumblebee costume for Halloween, and saved me during Career day. And this was also the man who had baked a chocolate strawberry HELLO, KITTY cake for me for my thirteenth birthday even though he was supposed to be preparing for a business meeting. My trust hadn’t wavered, up to this point, so maybe I was just going to have to trust him this time too.

“Does it after to be Lily?” I asked after a moment of silence.

“Yeah,” dad smiled, laughing again. I could feel an infectious smile creeping onto my lips too. “I love her, so she stays.”

“Well,” We started up the stairs towards the darkened house. Whatever Lily had cooked earlier—something spicy—still hung in the air. “It’s going to take a long time for me to forgive you for not telling me you were dating, or thinking about getting engaged,” I warned.

Dad laughed. “What if I buy you a pony?”

Sitting there, I had no idea if things would change completely, or if the world would continue to spin. I hated my father for not telling me, for springing it on me. Things were changing, I was growing up, and my father was falling in love again. I knew the world would never be like it had been before. But I had faith, knowing that maybe it would work out. Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for whatever was going to come. Maybe we would never be like Sophie, with her perfect family in their perfect hours with their perfect meals and perfect cookies. Somewhere in between, in the chaos, I was pretty sure everything would work out for the best.

“Dad?”

“Yeah.”

I smiled, preparing myself. In the corner of my eye, I saw a picture posted to the fridge of dad and I sitting on the beach. I was wearing my pink polka dots, and dad—of course—was in his day suit. “Just make me one promise.” He nodded, and I continued. Sometimes it was nice to have perfect hold you, keeping you safe for a moment. But that was all it was, a moment. I wasn’t perfect, dad wasn’t perfect, and maybe that was going. You couldn’t stay that way forever, anyways. Eventually you would stumble. It was just good to know that there were people around, even those new people that would catch you if you fell. “Never going tanning again.” I laughed loudly, filling the house—my house—with the sound. “It is just not a good look for you.”

THE END