Dad Loses It

Lanie

Mom’s noise-making abruptly stopped, and she turned to look at me.

Dad cocked his head. “What do you mean?” he barked. “We met him already?”

Just say it, I told myself. The sooner you let it out, the sooner it will be over with.

“He’s Andrew Marx,” I spilled, talking faster than usual. “I met him because his daughter, Raven, goes to my school. Weeks ago. We met weeks ago.”

The tension in the room was unprecedented, my breathing all I could hear at first. Dad’s eyes were wide, his jowls rapidly turning red.

“Andrew Marx?” he repeated.

“Yes,” I peeped, feeling like I was shrinking inside my sweater.

Dad licked his lips. Looked away. Ran his palm over his mouth. “How? When? Damn it, Lanie.”

I flinched at his harsh tone. My father had only cussed at me a few times before, and only when I did something really, really bad—like sneak out of the house in the middle of the night or clog the toilet with all of Mom’s lipsticks after we fought.

The disappointment and anger in his voice had