Variables

(x-h)24p(y-k)…Anna gave up. It was unlike her, to give up without a fight, but this math worksheet was getting the best of her. There were too many variables, it was too complicated, and she just didn’t get it. In other words, she had better things to do than futz with parabolas until her brain melted from the strain.

It was one of those days when all sorts of problems seemed to be creeping up on her all at once. To begin with, if she wanted to go on the senior trip to France the summer after next, she’d better find a job pretty quick. It wasn’t a cheap trip, so she hoped the bookstore was hiring. If she had to do menial labor, she’d rather be surrounded by books than canned goods at Fareway, which was the only other option. Besides, the grocery store’s pay was lousy. Anna also had several projects that needed finishing this week, including her history paper, gathering canned goods for the food drive at Sts. Constantine and Helen’s, and helping the neighbor’s little girl make a dress for her dolly like she’d promised. So, Anna also had to learn how to sew...Oh, merde, Anna realized unexpectedly. Not the sewing—she had a more worrisome problem: What was she going to do about prom? The dance was only three weeks away, but Anna was an expert procrastinator and had no date, no dress, and basically no plan whatsoever. Well, she could call Emma or Nora, and they’d brainstorm. She was starting to feel excited. Em and Nor were likely to make more of a fuss than she’d like, but they made everything fun. She could ask Sam to explain the parabolas later.

Sam…suddenly, Anna’s eagerness dimmed. Maybe she should finish the worksheet. She couldn’t ask Sam after all.

Sam Johnson had been Anna’s best friend since they were kids, but ever since he started dating Eva Nutter the relationship between him and Anna had been…well, strained. Anna genuinely liked Eva, she was a nice girl, but…her and Sam? It just didn’t fit. Anna didn’t quite know why, but for the past month she and Sam had been avoiding each other.

Anna picked up her paper and wandered into the den. Her father was sitting in his favorite chair, listening to Andy Williams on their vintage record player and reading the New York Times, the way he had every evening as long as Anna could remember. “Papa?” she asked softly.

He looked up and smiled, taking off his scholarly half-moon glasses and placing them in his shirt pocket. “What do you need, Banana girl?” He used her childhood nickname fondly. When Anna was four, her love for the fruit that rhymed with her name had amused him, and the nickname stayed long after her adoration for bananas became a mere liking.

Things with Sam to go back to normal. “Help with math, please.”

“Math?” Her father looked surprised—surprised enough to fold up his paper and set it aside. He regarded her closely, examining her face as if her expression would explain the unexpected request. “Anna, you haven’t needed help with math since fourth grade. Is Sam busy?”

Anna was good at many things. Lying, unfortunately, was not among them. “Yeah,” she murmured, looking away. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear as she repeated softly, “Busy….” She still hadn’t told her father about the awkwardness between her and Sam. He thought Sam as a son, and Anna knew he’d be upset that they were growing apart. Anna wasn’t so delighted herself.

“Banana?” His voice held a warning.

She refused to meet his eyes. “I’m, um, working on parabolas.” Anna knew he was looking at her, without blinking, the way he always did when he wanted to know something. She knew it, and it was starting to make her nervous. He never actually asked, he simply stared at her until she started babbling. Anna invariably blurted out everything he wanted to know within four minutes. “Papa?” She met his eyes, hoping that just once he’d help her without making her give in and explain.

He only smiled, waiting.

“You’re not going to help me, are you?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to tell you,” she told him, trying to sound firm and sure of herself and grown up enough that he’d leave the subject alone and help with the parabolas. “You want to know what’s going on with me and Sam, but it’s none of your business.”

She waited a moment, but still he said nothing. Anna glared at him fiercely, her wiry black eyebrows curving into angry caterpillars, identical to the ones above her father’s brown eyes. A spitfire like her mother, Anna closely resembled the one she was glowering at so ferociously, and her father knew it. Funny, her older sister Caroline was the opposite, with her mother’s elegant looks but his even temper….

Anna must have been able to tell that he was waxing reflective; or, at any rate, that he wasn’t giving her his full attention. A loud protest interrupted his fond driftings. “Really, Dad, I mean it! There’s nothing to tell! And anyway, I’m too old for the whole ‘silent staring’ business. It doesn’t work on me any more. ” She was fully annoyed now, and he knew it: She only called him “Dad” when she was angry. The rest of the time, he was her beloved “Papa.”

A smile quirked at the edge of his mouth, and his eyes had a warm, affectionate look to them as if he were laughing, but he kept his eyes on hers without speaking.

“Dad, please! I’m asking for your help. It’s none of your business that Sam and I are having problems.”

She was sincere and persistent; he had to grant her that. Like her mother, she didn’t give up easily. Finally, he blinked. He was silent, and he was still staring at her with that infuriating, gentle little smile, but at least he had blinked.

“Dad, please, it’s not as if we’re actually fighting. There isn’t really much of a problem at all. I don’t need advice, I need help with my homework. Please, Dad, come on!” She sounded desperate; she knew she was losing the battle.

Anna crossed her arms over her chest and returned the stare, trying to play his game. But after only a moment she began to tap her foot impatiently. She didn’t have the temper to sit quietly and wait for him to speak, and she knew already that he would win. Finally, Anna broke. Throwing her arms into the air in a last frustrated, disgusted gesture, she almost shouted at him. “Dad, back off! I don’t have a problem with Sam dating Eva! Stop staring!”

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or scream. After a moment, her father spoke quietly. “Really?”

Defeated, Anna sat on the arm of the couch and slumped. “No,” she admitted, in a voice so soft it could almost have been a whisper.

“Why, Banana?” His voice was kind, gentle. He had changed from Dad the Silent Interrogator back into her beloved, soft-spoken Papa.

“I don’t know,” Anna said, not sure whether it was the truth or a lie. “Eva’s a nice girl, and I like her well enough. But…her and Sam? Somehow it just doesn’t fit.”

“Why?” He kept his voice soft as always, but Anna knew he wouldn't let her shy away from the question.

“I...I don't know.” But she could try.

“Anna,” he growled. Even her father’s patience wore thin after one staring match. He was not going to let her delay answering twice in an evening.

Anna looked down. She didn’t know if she wanted to hear her own answer. “I think maybe I’m…I think…Papa, it’s just not fair.”

Had she looked at him, she would have seen in his brown eyes that he understood exactly what she was trying to say. His entire expression was one of empathy, of softness and love and compassion. “What isn’t fair, Anna?”

“It’s just—nothing,” she said. “Nothing big, anyway.” She couldn’t fool even herself. “It’s just that I’ve never dated, and I didn’t expect him to, because…because….”

Her father nodded. He understood. “I know, Banana. I know.”

Anna tipped her head to one side in a quizzical, doubtful gesture. “Do you?” she asked, not in a challenging way, but as a true question. She hoped he truly did.

“Your mother and I…” He stopped for a moment. A widower, he did not often speak of his beloved Maria, although he knew Anna and Caroline often wished he would. With a deep sigh, he started again. “Your mother and I were close friends for years before we were married, and the first time I gathered enough courage to ask her on a date was the day I found out that she had started a relationship with a chemistry major. Chemistry! It was not a good week. Luckily, when your aunt Eleni found out, she interfered and told your mother that I loved her. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to hug her or…” He shook his head. “My bossy little sister. Meddlesome.”

Anna smiled slightly, a welcome sight—even if it was pale compared to her normal thousand-watt grin. “She’s a Greek female, Papa. Did you expect anything different?”

He shook his head fondly. “Not really, and in the end I thanked her. But what I’m trying to tell you is that it’s okay. Your mother didn’t immediately drop Mr. Chemistry Hotshot, you know. It took her about another month for her head to figure out what her heart was trying to say.”

Anna gave a little chuckle. Her father could always make her laugh. He had the funniest expressions. “So you had to wait while her head figured it out?”

Her father nodded. “They speak different languages, you know. Logic and love can both be hard to understand. But it wasn’t so terribly bad. There was a beautiful little church not far from campus, and I lit a candle there every day. I didn’t give up, and I didn’t stop being her friend, and we ended up engaged before we had ever gone on a date!”

Anna laughed outright. Her heart lifted, and she made a decision. Her natural sparkle came back into her eyes, and she spoke with resolve. “Papa, I hope you tell me more stories about how you and Mother got to know each other. But right now, I’m going to go call Sam. I still need help with parabolas.”