Page 103 of Score
“I’m disinterested. Not lost.”
“Well, you’ll always be my son, and you’ll always be a child of God, whether you acknowledge it or not.” He nods to the piano. “That gift you got, you used to believe that was God-given.”
“I’m not exactly sure what I believe anymore, but I know most of what I learned growing up ain’t it. Church folk always sending everybody to hell till one of them makes a mistake. Thentheydeserve grace.”
“I’m not asking if you gave up onchurch,” he says, his expression grave. “I’m asking if you gave up on God.”
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “I don’t think about it.”
“Maybe you should.”
We stare at each other, at an impasse, the same stubbornness setting his jaw that I know sets mine. When it feels like the moment pulls so taut it might snap, he clears his throat.
“So you, uh, you seeing anybody?” he asks, steering us to what should be safer ground.
Verity’s face flashes in my mind, and my eyes wander over to the phone turned screen-down on the piano.
“No,” I say, and then shrug. “Maybe. Not exactly.”
Daddy’s brows lift, curiosity replacing the awkwardness. “Who is she?”
“A girl I dated in college. You wouldn’t rememb—”
“Verity?”
I stare at him. “You remember Verity?”
“She was the only girl you ever mentioned the whole time you were at Finley. Wasn’t hard to work out. You two dating again?”
“It’s complicated.” I sigh and thrum my fingers on the piano bench. “She cheated on me. Back then, I mean.”
I didn’t intend to say that. Daddy used to be able to get me to confess anything I did wrong with a glance. Mama always said that look was as effective as a shot of truth serum.
“I caught her kissing this other guy. We broke up, she left Finley within days, and we’ve barely seen each other the last twelve years.”
“So why now?” he asks, eyes narrowed as if he’s trying to work out a problem.
“She’s a screenwriter. A really good one, and we’re working on a movie together.”
“Dessi Blue?”
I lean back to rest my elbows on the piano. “How’d you know?”
“Saw it inVariety.” He looks slightly embarrassed, which is completely incongruous on my father’s face. “You don’t tell me about your life, so I have to read about it in the papers, watch it on TV and stuff.”
“Ahh.” I crush a kernel of guilt. “Well, yeah, it’s my friend Canon’s film. He’s the director and we’re both on his team.”
“And you realized you still have feelings for her?”
“Is lust a feeling? If so, yeah.”
“I wonder if you’re fooling yourself, ’cause you for sho ain’t fooling me. It’s more than lust and I think you know that. I’ve been the one to let you down before. You don’t forgive easily when you love.”
“I never said I loved her.”
“True,” he concedes, though he looks like he thinks he could win the argument if pressed. “So you’re considering… something with her again?”
It feels weird discussing our situationship with my father, the pastor, but it’s also oddly freeing. I haven’t talked to anyone about the havoc Verity has wreaked on my peace of mind since she reentered my life.
