Dumped!

Dumped (12)

(PICTURE OF GREG ------------------------------------------------------>>>>>>)

12

It felt very weird not waking up to the smell of burning toast on Sunday morning. Rosie always tried to make breakfast, but ended up ruining a section of my kitchen in the process.

I was meeting my dad at the country club in less than three hours anyway, so it wasn’t like I’d have to be alone in the house. Then, Brad and I were hanging out at his place afterwards.

I love my independence and I’ve always loved living on my own, but all of a sudden it felt lonely.

I put Shannon on her leash and pulled her out with me. The weekends were the only days I got to spend with her, so I made an effort to take her everywhere I went. She wagged her tail in anticipation as I locked the front door, and stuck the key in my bag.

“Hey Dad”, I said, giving him a hug as we walked into the Bistro restaurant.

“Deana”, he replied, and led me to a table outside, so Shannon could run around.

When I was really young, my favourite part of the entire week was Sunday lunches at the club with my dad. He’d play golf first, and I’d get to ride around in the cart with one of the caddies, and then, we’d go to the Bistro to have lunch.

As I got older though, I found more exciting things to do on Sundays, which kind of hurt his feelings. It wasn’t that I didn’t  want to hang out with him though. It’s just riding around in a cart seemed so lame – in fact, the entire act of playing golf seemed lame – so, we just cut it down to lunches.

“So, are you going to get all the things mom doesn’t let you have?” I asked, grinning, as we scanned the menu.

“She’s only looking out for me. Besides, she’ll probably sniff it off me”, he replied, with a chuckle.

He ordered a Grilled Balsamic Beef Skewer salad while I ordered the Ahi Tuna Wrap. I thought I should get a healthy meal, instead of getting something that he couldn’t have – because it was bad for his heart.

“So, how’s work?” he asked, making polite conversation.

Talking about work made me think of Jeremy Harrington, who I was trying to keep out of my mind.

“Um . . . good”, I replied, pretending to scan the menu.

My dad didn’t seem to notice my heated face. Or if he did, he didn’t let on.

Lunch went on, with us making polite conversation here and there. Thankfully, he didn’t bring up Rosie once. If it were my mother, that’s probably all we’d talk about.

A few hours later, I was knocking on the door to Brad’s apartment. I’d gone back to change into shorts and a tank top – he’d said we were repainting his spare room walls. Shannon barked as Brad pulled open the door. He was wearing only khaki pants and drinking a beer.

He looked down at Shannon, and said, “Oh hey, Deana. You’ve gotten quite hairy since the last time I saw you”, with a confused frown.

“Ha – ha – ha”, I said, sarcastically as I brushed past him.

Walking into Brad’s apartment, you could see a glimmer of how rich he was. The floors were all tiled, and the living room was all leather couches, a glass coffee table, a huge flat screen, stereo, and every piece of technology ever made by Apple. There kitchen was right next to it – a combination of dark wood and silver panels. It was the exact definition of a bachelor pad.