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“How else is it supposed to be taken?”

“I just meant, when you go through bad things in your personal life, it makes it harder not to see things that way in the day to day stuff.”

“I guess,” I mumble.

He takes a step toward me. “I swear, I didn’t mean it in that way. I like you just the way you are, pessimist and all.”

He taps my nose with his index finger and smiles.

I look toward the ground, holding in a smile.

“I don’t want to be this way,” I admit. “I just don’t know how else to view things.”

“That’s exactly why you’re learning my ways. By the end of the summer, you’ll look at life through a different lens. I promise.”

3

Present Day

My dad and I sit down on the same couch they’ve had since I lived here almost ten years ago. I’m surprised it’s still made the cut with how particular Eloise can be.

She always had to one-up the neighbors or her friends—or anyone she could get her claws around.

Once, she placed rustic Buddha heads around every corner you’d turn. She isn’t even religious, so it was especially weird. I’m glad to see that phase is over.

Beige couches are very in style right now, but they have an L-shape in a muted grey color.

There aren’t any throw pillows either.

Growing up, they had at least four pillows that we weren’t allowed to be sat on. They were for decor, not comfort. If you were caught leaning on one, you’d be banished to another room and ignored for twenty-four hours.

And that was a regular Saturday in this house.

Now that I’m really getting a good look around, it’s actually quite bland in here. Dad always wanted a Barcalounger, and I’m surprised to see he managed to convince Eloise to allow one.

We’ve been silent for a minute, frozen on the couch.

The thought of seeing Eloise makes my underarms sweat profusely. I could be screamed at or be completely ignored. I’d prefer the latter as I believe anyone would.

“I see you guys haven’t been decorating much.” I fake a little laugh. Anything to break the throat closing silence.

I’m not exactly sure where to start.

I can’t exactly go in with, oh by the way, I was married, and you weren’t invited to the wedding—but it’s okay because now we’re divorced.

It’s not such a great opener.

“I don’t have an eye for decor,” he says with a bleak, tight-lipped smile.

“Well, Eloise does.” It’s strange mentioning her name out loud. “She’s a decor fanatic.”

My dad rubs the back of his neck, something he does when he’s uncomfortable. “Eloise isn’t here,” he says.

Thank goodness.

“Is she at work?” I ask, relieving the tension in my back.

It’s seven o’clock. I don’t know why she’d still be at the office. Maybe she was sent to California on business. She always had issues to fix down there.