Playing in the Rain by Harvey-Berrick Jane

Author:Harvey-Berrick, Jane [Harvey-Berrick, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Playing in the Rain
Publisher: Haravey Berrick Publishing
Published: 2014-07-01T04:00:00+00:00

Dad and I talked for two hours. Well, maybe ‘talked’ isn’t the right word. He shouted, I yelled. He barked, I roared. When he insisted I go back to Fayetteville, I refused. He ordered, I refused again. Then he begged and pleaded, and I tried to explain.

“I need to make my own decisions, Dad, good and bad. I won’t always get it right, but that’s how I’m going to learn. You have to let me make these choices.”

“Even when coming to San Diego has been nothing but a huge mistake?”

“I don’t see it that way, Dad. I’m managing on my own. I won’t say it’s been easy, because it hasn’t.”

“And this new ‘maturity’ that you insist you have, your refusal to come home to your family, it’s nothing to do with this boy you’ve met?”

Ah, he had me there.

“Partly,” I admitted at last, ignoring Dad’s triumphant glare. “Cody has become important to me. He’s taught me that life isn’t something to take for granted; it’s a privilege and I have to make the decisions that are right for me.”

“Very profound,” he sneered. “And what does he do, this boy?”

“As I said, his name is Cody, and he’s important to me, Dad. Please respect that.”

Dad was silent for a few seconds, then he said in a more conciliatory tone, “What does he do?”

“He volunteers at a homeless shelter.”

For a moment, Dad was nonplussed. I knew what he was thinking: minus points for not having a paying job; plus points for the volunteer work.

“That’s hardly a career,” he said, at last.

“Not everything is about money. This is about giving something back to the community,” I said firmly.

Our eyes locked.

“Are you going to come home?”

“My home is here, Dad.”

He looked so shocked and upset that I almost caved, but I knew that if I went back with him, I’d regret not trying to stand on my own two feet.

“Dad, I don’t say this to hurt you, but I’ve been your little girl for so long that you haven’t wanted to see that I’ve grown up.”

He sighed. “There is some truth in that.”

I smiled and reached for his hand. “I met a real live Navajo medicine woman today.”

“You have been having some adventures lately,” he smiled, sadly.

“Yes, I have. Grandma Yatzi made this braid for me.”

“It looks pretty.”

“Thank you. Grandma Yatzi told me that she knew Mom used to do this for me.”

He sucked in a sudden breath.

“She said that?”

“Yes. Isn’t that amazing?”

“I do remember your mother doing that,” he said, softly. “She spent hours fussing with your hair.”

“And she said that Mom was watching me, from the stars, just like you used to say.”

I felt his hand tremble.

“You’re so like your mother,” he said, his voice edged with warmth and sadness. “So full of life. I could never tell her anything either.”

Tears pricked my eyes even as we shared our laughter.

Eventually, my dad left; back to his hotel and to the red-eye flight that he’d take by himself in the morning. I promised to phone him more often, and he promised to do his best to let me live my own life.

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