Beach Day

27: Clearing the Air (and Other Acts of Cowardice)

"I'll admit I had an ulterior motive," he says, once they're out of earshot of the dining room table. "I wanted to talk to you. We both know your mother wouldn't let that happen."

Tiff nods. They know. There's no need to say more.

"So, how's life out in Washington?"

There's a thousand things she could say. She could get into the entirety of her friend situation or how she sleeps in a shed because there isn't actually room for her at home, or she could ask why that was his first question. She could remind him it's his fault she's out there at all. Instead, she settles on a choked, "It's fine."

"It's this 'it's fine' in the sense of it's genuinely fine, or are you concealing something?"

She shrugs. "I might be?"

"Oh, I knew it." He keeps his voice down, checks the end of the hall. "You're a lesbian. Oh, Tiffany May, don't tell your mother."

"What? No— Dad, I'm not a lesbian."

"You're wearing plaid! Your hair—"

"Is green. Yeah. I know. I'm the one who did it. I just didn't have a dress shirt and I was tired of the way Aunt Esther's sundress fit. I'm not a lesbian."

He grabs her by the shoulders, emphatic. "I want to hear more about your time away."

She wants to remind him that she's looking for her grandfather, but, truth be told: she wants to talk to him. The shell melts instantly. It softens under his enthusiasm. How could she afford to say no? If he's changed enough to do something small that Ruth didn't want him to do, isn't he just as deserving of a second chance when it comes to smaller interactions with Tiff? When it comes to his firstborn prodigal daughter?

"Let's look for him outside." He says it a little too loudly and a little too suspiciously, with his hands still on her shoulders. He lowers his voice and offers, "Let's head out there and have a chat. I don't know if we'll get another chance before Christmas."

It's a week-before-Christmas miracle; it's an olive branch extended; and she grabs hold of it to pull herself out of the raging river. That quick nod she gives him is all he needs as permission (not that he needed it anyway. He never asked for it before).

This is the way it's always been, in those good moments between the horrific bad. This is the man who would put her on his shoulders at Cypress Gardens, not the man who would lock her out of the house for hours after yelling at her for longer. This is the man who would take her and Andy to the park and sit with her mother on the bench.

She was always aware that she wasn't wanted, but sometimes he didn't make her feel it. It was something she clung to at night, tears on her pillow after another shit day at his hands. He wasn't often physical, unless pulling her hair counted. Whatever the case, she lets him lead her to the backyard.

Maybe he has changed. Maybe all the time between has turned him into that better, kinder version of himself. She can only hope— and hope she does.

It's almost nice to catch up with him. It's like when he would surprise her by picking her up from school rather than making her bike, and they would talk about their days. It's just like that, except it's been two years and there's so much more to say. There's also so much more she can't. It used to just be that she couldn't tell him how Suzy treated her. Now she has to dodge Krista and the whole "supernatural scientist and nightmare fighter" thing.

This is wrong. If Olive knew what was going on here (if Olive knew anything about Tiff's family at all), she would be so pissed. She already gets angry at Tiff for staying in touch with Krista. (Never mind that two girls who hate each other more than anything need to go out to the woods and punch each other sometimes. Never mind that Krista's grandfather is Tiff's boss.)