Drumbeats into My Heart

37. Seth Asks a Question

My knee jogs up and down at the dinner table. It's Saturday night and I still haven't asked if I can go to the drum circle. It's not a big deal. Really. At least I don't think so. Then why haven't I asked yet?

Because sometimes I'm wrong.

"Seth, you're shaking the table." Mom's sharp voice stills my leg.

"Sorry," I mumble as I shovel peas into my mouth. I could just lie. Say I'm going to the library again. Because that worked so well last time, didn't it? Just spit it out.

I swallow the mush in my mouth and clear my throat. Just ask. No harm in asking, right? What's the worst that can happen?

I study my mom, trying to gauge her mood. She seems okay.

My leg starts bouncing again.

A nudge against my foot makes me look up at my dad, who sits across from me. He gives me a meaningful stare. I stop the bouncing knee.

Just ask, damn it.

I clear my throat again. "Um, Mom?"

"Mmm?" Her mouth is full of chicken.

"I'd like to go out Sunday afternoon."

She swallows her bite. "Where are you going?"

"Just hanging out with a friend."

"With Tai?"

All I have to do is agree.

But lying again doesn't sit right with me. I'm not ashamed of Jordi, so why hide it?

A spark of courage propels my tongue. "With a girl, actually."

Her fork stops in mid-air. "A girl? Really." One corner of her mouth lifts up.

I can't quite read her expression. Is she... pleased? I rarely see this face. "Um, yeah."

I glance at Dad, who's beaming at me. "I knew you had it in you," he says.

"Where'd you meet her?" Mom asks.

My smile fades and my heart begins flagellating the inside of my ribs. The truth worked incredibly well for me so far, but admitting I met her at the farmer's market would cast suspicion that maybe I wasn't actually volunteering for a local economics project.

"At the tutoring center," I say, suppressing a wince at the lie.

She sets her fork down leans forward. "What did she need help with?"

I squirm. Maybe this isn't such a good idea. Maybe I should've said I was going with Tai.

"Honey," Dad places a hand on Mom's arm. "He's going on a date. Just be happy for him."

She sits back and gives him a bland smile before turning to me. "What exactly is a drum circle?"

She didn't say no! I answer quickly. "It's a bunch of people getting together to play music. Lots of drummers."

"Interesting." She considers this a moment.

I hold my breath.

"Well, just be safe." She resumes her dinner by slicing at her baked potato.

That means yes!

I must be beaming because Dad winks at me. Actually winks. I finish the rest of my dinner even though I'm floating on a cloud. Not only did I get permission to go to the event, my dad actually helped me for a change! I wish I could tell him how important that was to me without making it weird.

I wonder how Dad would react if I suddenly started talking about my feelings with him? Would he actually listen? I mean really listen, without judgement or telling me how to fix my problems. What would that even feel like? To have a parent acknowledge and accept how I feel about things. That would be so amazing.

True acceptance.

I pretend to concentrate on cutting up a piece of chicken while discreetly appraising my dad. He seems like he would be a listener. I mean, he'd have to be to put up with my mom's tendency to take over conversations.

I glance at her briefly before returning focus to my plate.

If I were to confide to my father about sensitive things, he might just turn around and tell her about them. Then she would try to fix them for me.

With a subtle shake of my head, I banish the idea from my brain.

Later that evening, I triumphantly add DRUM CIRCLE to my phone's calendar. It's not until I get to the "Location" portion of the entry that I realize I don't have any details about where it is or how I'm supposed to get there.

I lean back in my chair and stare at my phone.

I'm going to have to ask her.

I shake my head at myself. I'm being silly. I have nothing to be anxious about. It's not like I'm contacting a total stranger. Plus, texting her the question would be easy enough. The beauty of texting is the total avoidance of awkward silence and me tripping over my tongue.

I tap out a message and hit send. Hi! Where is the drum circle and what time does it start?

As an afterthought, I add, it's Seth by the way.

Wait, why did I do that? Who else is it going to be?

But you probably already knew that, I keep adding.

Then I send a nerd emoji for good measure, only to realize I accidentally sent the poop emoji instead. I groan.

Honestly, is texting really better than calling?

I sigh and lament the lack of a delete button for revoking idiotic text messages.

We've all been there. You can't take back text messages. But did you know you could "un-vote"? Though I don't know why you'd want to do that. ;)