Page 59 of Tanner

“No, not high school.”

“Is he eighteen at least?”

“Dad, Jesus, you make me sound like a pedophile.”

“You’re the one who’s making it seem that way. So, he’s over eighteen?”

“Yes, he’s twenty-two.”

“Good. You don’t have to worry about getting caught buying him alcohol.” He lets out a raspy chuckle, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“I’m serious. This is not a joke, although I’m glad you’re having a good laugh about it.”

“I’m just bustin’ chops. Seriously, why are you so bothered by it?”

“I’m eight years older than him,” I explain as if my dad can’t do simple math.

“And?”

“And we’re at totally different stages of our lives.”

“And you know this because—shit!” he shouts.

I panic. “What happened?”

“I overcooked the bacon. Mommy likes it with the burned edges. I want my pig to still be oinking at me when it comes out of the microwave.” He lets out little curses, which I’m sure are from him trying to peel the bacon off the hot plate that just came out of the microwave.

“Watch your fingers.” I worry.

“I’m a mechanic. I touch things hotter and more dangerous than some bacon. What were we talking about again? Oh, your childlike boyfriend. I don’t know what the big deal is.”

“How can a twenty-two-year-old be at the same point in life as me?”

“You do realize, I was twenty-two when I married your mother, right?”

I inhale a deep breath. I’ve heard their story a thousand times. I never had to read romance novels or watch Lifetime Christmas specials. I had my own parents’ story to remind me daily how true love existed and when it was meant to be, it would be.

They met while she was still in high school. She and her friends were heading to a concert. My dad caught her eye on the subway. They smiled at each other but then got off and went their separate ways.

At the concert, while ordering food at the concession stand, she realized she’d forgotten cash and started to panic. He appeared beside her and paid for her food. Then, he took her hand in his and simply kissed the top before walking away with his friends.

Hours later, my mom stepped onto the subway, only to see him sitting directly across from her. They knew then that they were meant to be. It wasn’t long after that when he proposed. My mom always said he’d swept her off her feet.

I’ve always wanted to find my own story like that.

For a moment, I thought I had.

“Sweet pea”—my dad’s voice pulls me from my thoughts—“what’s on your mind?”

“How did you know Mommy was the one so soon after you got together?”

He lets out a short puff of air, which I can only deduce is from smiling at a memory.

“It was her eyes. They were this clear blue, and I couldn’t stop looking at them. I didn’t know anything about her, but when she looked at me, I got this feeling. It was like a magnet. I was drawn to her. Then, as I got to know her and I heard her stories, I felt this freedom—like everything that I had been told I had to do went out the window, and because of her, I could be anything. She’s the one who pushed me to open the shop. With my Rita, I felt alive, and every time she looked at me with those eyes, I knew it was going to be okay.

“When you were born, I was scared shitless. Not her though. She took one look at you and was instantly peaceful. My heart was racing a mile a minute, and when she looked up at me, I had a brick lifted off my shoulders. When we bought the house or when Nanny died, it was okay because she was there. That’s why, even though she looks at me like I’m a total stranger, I still see it. The blue in those eyes that tells me it’s all going to be okay.”

“Daddy,” I say as I hear the break in his voice.