As time went on, she realized she had nobody she could talk to about this. Or, rather, there was only one person in her life she could talk to, one person who would almost certainly understand. The one man who had always been there for her, who had always played a role in her life.
“Oh no,” she muttered, burying her face in her hands. Sitting cross-legged on the bed – in the tank top and shorts she’d fantasized about wearing in front of her dad – she picked up the phone and texted him.
[what are you doing today? can I come over and pick up the movie?]
Juliet placed the phone gingerly back on the bedspread, as if it were explosive. She didn’t think it was likely he’d be busy today, but she didn’t want to assume either.
She watched more videos while she waited. Time seemed to stretch out into an infinity of anticipation.
When the phone finally chimed, she picked it up with lightning speed.
[sure, come on over!]
She grinned and sighed in relief. Then the relief passed as she remembered she actually had to face him – and her own feelings.
“I’ll figure it out when I get there,” she said to reassure herself.
***
She decided to stick with what she was wearing. It was skimpy, yes, but it was also hot out, and she didn’t feel like changing. A little voice in her mind told her she had other motives for what she was wearing, but she chose to ignore it.
Despite what Juliet had told herself, her mind kept trying to solve the problem of her feelings as she drove. What would she say when she got there? What would she do? What if she confessed her feelings and he rejected her – or worse? What if he got angry? What if she’d been absolutely wrong about everything?
“Forget it,” she whispered, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. She’d figure it out when she got there. Or not. Obsessing on it wasn’t going to make anything better.
***
The heat was sweltering by the time she reached the RV. It hit her in a wave as soon as she stepped from the car, and she was already sweating – partially from the heat, but also from anxiousness.
She walked to the RV door and knocked. A muffled voice said something that sounded like an invitation, so she opened it and stepped in.
The RV was marginally cooler inside. Her dad had rigged up a small swamp cooler in one window, hooked to an exterior generator. It was hardly chilly, but definitely better than outside.
Her dad stood at the kitchenette counter, putting together a sandwich.
“Hey, pumpkin,” he said. He was wearing a tee shirt and shorts, his feet bare. He looked a little like he’d just rolled out of bed – his hair was a bit mussed. “You hungry? I can make one of these for you.”
“What is it?”
“Bologna.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Gross. What is wrong with you?”
“Fair enough.” He grinned and pointed behind him, to where the DVD case lay on the countertop. “I put it back in the case for you.”
“Thanks,” she said, feeling oddly dispirited. She took the case and turned it over in her hands, pondering.
Her dad pushed away the sandwich, untouched. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”