“
Whoa, Livvy, that
’
s exactly what I said.
”
“
Please, Emi,
”
Dad says,
“
enlighten me. What exactly have you told our daughter?
”
“
She told me to use protection–
”
“
Livvy, we discussed–
”
She stops addressing me and shifts her attention to Dad.
“
Jacks, we
’
ve discussed a lot more than that, but yes, we
’
ve had the talk. I told her to protect herself if she was ever in that position.
”
He glares at my mother.
“
Wrong word,
”
Mom mutters.
“
Jack, she
’
s sixteen. She has a boyfriend. Let
’
s be realistic.
”
“
A boyfriend? She went on her first date with him tonight. My, how quickly things progress these days.
”
He shakes his head.
“
It
’
s too soon for either of you to have sex.
”
“
Well, he already has.
”
“
Has he?
”
my dad says angrily.
“
That
’
s just fantastic.
”
“
Lots of boys my age have, Dad,
”
I argue with him.
“
Nate was in high school when he lost his virginity.
”
My mom puts her head in her hands.
“
Nate?
”
he asks, standing up, seemingly bewildered.
“
Why the hell do I care about Nate
’
s sexual history?
”
“
Because he
’
d probably understand better than you do. He might be able to have a rational conversation with me about it instead of getting mad at me.
”
“
I
’
m confused, Emi. How is he involved in this at all?
”
“
She asked how old I was, how old Nate was, and then how old you were.
”
“
And you told her?
”
“
I told her I was in college, I mentioned Nate was in high school, and I told her she should ask you herself.
”
He looks at me, as if waiting for me to ask. I can
’
t form the sentence. He looks back over to Mom, unblinking. I can tell he
’
s upset with her.
My brother opens the door, only to have it bang up against the stool.
“
Daddy?
”
“
Yes, Jackson?
”
he asks, but doesn
’
t even turn around.
“
Can I have a soda?
”
“
Sure. Tell Matty I said it was okay.
”
“
Jacks, it
’
s nearly eleven,
”
my mom says.
“
Well, I won
’
t be getting any sleep tonight, either.
”
“
Honey, we
’
re just talking, okay? We were doing fine before you came in here.
”
“
Well, I
’
m not leaving.
”
He shuts the door again.
“
Then tell our daughter how old you were when you first had sex.
”
He continues to stare at her.
“
I don
’
t think that
’
s relevant to the conversation. We
’
re discussing Livvy and Jon.
”
“
Alright, I
’
ll make you a deal. If you don
’
t want to divulge that information, fine. But I want you to sit there and let me talk. That
’
s the deal. If you feel the need to speak up, you can answer her question and then you and I can explain double standards to her. How
’
s that?
”
My mouth forms into a smug smile. I love it when my mom puts Dad in his place.
“
Fine,
”
my dad says quickly as he takes a seat again, crossing his arms.
“
Great.
”
Mom turns her focus back to me and takes my hand.
“
You asked if it should bother you that he
’
s already had sex.
”
My dad puts his head in his hand, but stays quiet.
“
You know, I can
’
t answer that question for you, honey. But I want you to remember how it made you feel when he told you he wasn
’
t a virgin. Just remember that feeling of disappointment. Your feelings are valid, Livvy. If that hurt you, I want you to remember that, and keep in mind that if you have sex with the wrong guy, the
right
one might feel that exact same way some day. So you have to choose wisely, Livvy. You don
’
t get your virginity back.
”
I just nod at her and feel my cheeks turn pink again. My dad doesn
’
t look at me, but his face softens and he quietly leaves the room.
“
That was uncomfortable,
”
I mutter.
“
Is he mad?
”
“
I don
’
t know. If he is, he
’
ll get over it. I
’
ll talk to him.
”
“
He
’
s so controlling.
”
“
He
’
s not controlling. He just wants you to have the best of everything. And where you
’
re involved, Liv, your dad will stop at nothing to make sure you have all the information you need to make the right decisions in your life. Would he like to make them for you? I
’
m sure. But he knows that
’
s not possible.
“
As much as he
’
d like to be in control of this decision, we both know that when the time comes, it
’
s just going to be a decision between you and a guy you really care about. And he better really care about you, too.
“
Dad loves you so much. He never wants you to be hurt.
”
“
He was in high school, too, wasn
’
t he?
”
I ask her.
She lets out a slight laugh.
“
We can talk about double standards another day,
”
she answers.
“
Why doesn
’
t he even try to relate to me?
”
“
Livvy,
”
she says sadly.
“
He is trying. He
’
s doing the best he can do.
”
“
I think other people could have done better,
”
I suggest.
“
Who?
”
She laughs, looking at me curiously and clearly not taking me seriously.
I stare long and hard at the painting on the wall.
“
No one.
”
CHAPTER
7
“
I miss you.
”
“
I miss you back.
”
“
How are you?
”
“
Fine. Has your dad had any change of heart about Saturday night?
”
“
No,
”
I text to Jon.
“
Granna says you
’
re welcome to come to the open house, but Dad says it
’
ll be too late after for us to go and do anything.
”
“
I can
’
t even come over for a bit?
”
I mentally berate myself for the twenty-seventh time about deciding to tell my parents about Jon. Ever since then, he has been a constant source of tension in our house.
“
No, they won
’
t be coming home immediately after.
”
“
Sounds perfect,
”
he texts, following it up with a winking emoticon. They
will
be home, and I don
’
t like that I feel the need to lie to him, but it
’
s better than telling him that I
’
ve shared his deeply personal news with two people he
’
s supposed to be trying to impress. I
’
m hoping they just need time to get used to the idea.
“
What are you doing over there?
”
Granna asks from across the table after dinner.
“
Nothing,
”
I tell her.
“
I
’
m sorry. I
’
ll put it away.
”
“
Your painting tonight was incredible. It reminds me of his.
”
“
Really?
”
I smile, happy that she could see similarities. She nods at me.
“
His best work came when he was upset about something. He channeled that into his artwork quite well. He
’
d go through days of self-loathing, where he didn
’
t talk to hardly anyone–except your mother–and then he
’
d emerge from his loft with a masterpiece. I used to worry about him, about depression, but he always had a way to work out his own internal struggles without medication or drugs or alcohol. Art was his release.
”
“
That
’
s cool.
”
“
Yeah,
”
she says.
“
Cool,
”
she repeats sarcastically.
“
So do you do the same thing?
”
“
Huh?
”
“
Are you working something out in your artwork? Is something upsetting you?
”
“
Maybe,
”
I answer, having never given any thought to the process. I usually just paint what I want to paint. This week, though, did seem to be more of an emotive experiment. The tension between Dad and me. The lingering questions I had about Jon. I was considering it all as I played with colors, textures and brushes. I realize that all of my feelings had been put on display in my most current piece. It makes me blush, thinking about it, but the great thing about abstract art is that everyone walks away with their own interpretations.
No one was astute enough to look at the painting and see my sheer and utter frustration with a father who refused to hear me out; who was completely unable to have meaningful conversations that didn
’
t involve him barking out some sort of order or imposing some sort of stupid limit.
I wanted a cool dad, an understanding dad. Someone who could hear my concerns and remove his personal beliefs from the equation and provide thoughtful insight that wasn
’
t biased or fueled by some fear of his little girl growing up. My mom seemed to excel at this. I knew Nate would have been amazing at this. I mean, he was an artist, a musician, a poet. He understood that there were more than two colors, that the world was more than just black and white, that there was more to life than concrete and solid facts and unchanging truths. There was universal understanding and acceptance and general
humanity
to consider. My dad was too personally invested in my life. I needed space, and room to breathe and grow–and grow
up
. I was never going to get it in my home.