The Truth About Faking

over later, and well, you need to be here,” he says. “They might want to talk to us as a family.”
    Talk to us as a family? “What’s going on?”
    “When your mother gets back, we can talk about it more. But I need you to stay here, okay?”
    I nod, thinking how he almost never uses that tone with me, like he’s trying not to show his anger. My heartbeat speeds up, and I take a breath and just blurt it.
    “Is this about Ricky?”
    Dad stops what he’s doing and closes his book. Then he looks at me. “Yes.”
    I can’t believe he said that. My throat gets so tight, I can barely speak. “Is it something… bad?”
    He responds slowly, and I watch his eyes, the same color as mine, searching for the exact right words. “It’s something that’s, well, basically a misunderstanding.”
    “A misunderstanding about Mom and Ricky?”
    He breathes and looks down. “Yes.”
    I wait a few seconds and then slowly say what I’ve been afraid to say for weeks. “What if it’s not a misunderstanding?”
    Dad looks at me quickly. “What do you mean?”
    “I just… what if I heard something? Something between Ricky and Mom.”
    “What did you hear?”
    My heart’s racing, and it’s hard to speak. “I don’t know. They were talking, and it sounded like… well, like he was begging her for something.”
    I’m afraid I might start crying now. I can’t finish the sentence. I can’t say it out loud and make it real. Not to Dad. I don’t want to hear it myself, not even in my head.
    He puts his book down and stands up. Then he walks over and pulls me into a hug. I lay my head on his chest.
    “Your mom’s got a lot going on. You’re going to have to trust her to know what’s best.”
    “How can you say that?” I step back and look at him wide-eyed. “How can you just ignore everything?”
    “I don’t ignore anything.”
    “But you never stop her. You never say anything. And I know there are things you could say. Things you could do.”
    He sits down and exhales again. “That’s not how we work, Harley.”
    “But what if she has done something wrong?”
    He’s quiet a few moments, thinking. “God puts situations in our lives to see how we’re going to respond to them. If we’ll make the right decisions, His decisions, or if we’ll—”
    “Stop.” I cut him off. “You are not going to tell me God is somehow in what’s going on with Mom and Ricky.”
    “God’s in everything, honey.”
    I shake my head and start to walk out. “Thanks, Dr. Andrews.”
    “We can talk about it more when your mom gets home,” he says. “Just try not to worry about it.”
    I pause to look back at him, but he’s already returned to his book.
    I can’t believe it! He’s seriously going to make some observation about God and not do anything! I storm into my room. I resist the urge to slam the door, but oh my god! My phone is going off again. Jason’s texting me.
    Where RU?
    Home.
    It rings in my hands.
    “I called earlier,” he says. “Why didn’t you answer?”
    “Something’s going on here. Dad just asked me to stay put.”
    “Want me to come over?”
    “No,” I sigh. “Just wait. I’ll let you know.”
    We’re quiet again. Then Jason speaks.
    “I’m glad…” he hesitates.
    “What?”
    His voice is lower. “I was going to say I’m glad I found you last night.”
    In spite of everything, I smile and warm tingles fill my stomach. Thinking about last night and kissing Jason has the power to make me a little less mad at my parents and stupid Ricky.
    “Me, too,” I say softly.
    “Okay!” His voice brightens. “So. Later then.”
    “Later.”
    I close the phone and sit on my bed. It’s a sunny spring day outside. I should be running around holding hands with Jason. Maybe kissing him some more. Instead I’m sitting here waiting. Waiting to see what strange business is going to happen at my house. What strange people are going to appear and what they’re going to say. Waiting to see what my mom is going to do. What my dad is clearly going to stand by and watch her do.
     
    Mom finally comes home around lunchtime. I’m sitting at the table spooning egg salad onto a cracker when she breezes through the door looking distracted. She glances at me and smiles briefly.
    “Hey, honey,” she says. “Where’s Daddy?”
    I pointed to his study with my spoon. I wonder if she’s even aware of what’s about to happen at our house. And if she is, whether she even cares about how it affects