The living room, like the kitchen, held whispers of my mom, from the glass-topped tables to the suede furniture to the Art Deco statue in the corner. Either my parents had very similar decorating ideas, or my dad was still living in the past, surrounding himself with reminders of her. No pictures of her, though.
"Dad - " I started, but he didn't give me a chance to explain.
"Stop," he said, hand raised. "What did we agree on about guests?"
I took a breath to speak and let it out. "I'm sorry. But it's Josh. You set me up with him, so I thought it'd be okay. It's just a sandwich." My voice had gotten whiny, and I hated it.
"It's not the sandwich; it's you being here alone with him."
"Da-a-a-a-ad," I moaned, "I'm seventeen."
His eyebrows went up. "What's the agreement?" he asked, and I slumped.
"I said I'd ask before inviting people over," I mumbled. "I'm sorry. I forgot."
Immediately he relented and gave me a sideways hug. My dad couldn't stay mad at me, especially when it appeared I was starting to make some friends. "It looks like you forgot a lot," he said when he let go. "Like your bike? Madison, that bike wasn't cheap. I can't believe you left it there."
If he was talking money, then we were cool. "Sorry," I hedged as I tried to get him to go back to the kitchen. "Josh almost got into an accident and I got distracted."
At the word accident, my dad pulled me around. "Are you okay?" he gasped as he held my upper arms and gave me a once-over.
"Dad, it's okay," I said, and his grip dropped. "I wasn't even in the car. A traffic light fell, and Josh swerved out of the way." Kairos could stay out of the story.
"Madison," he began, looking scared, and a memory surfaced of me finding him alone in my room, surrounded by packing boxes and believing I was dead.
"Not a scratch or anything," I said, to get that awful picture out of my own head. "It was the other guy who hit the traffic light."
My dad searched my face to see if I was telling the truth. "You mean a stop sign," he said, and I shook my head.
"Traffic light," I affirmed, finding the humor in it as Grace laughed from the kitchen. "It fell right off the wire and some guy ran into it. If it hadn't, he might have hit Josh instead."
Finally he lost that frightened look. Pulling himself straight, he exhaled. "Sounds like his guardian angel was working overtime."
A glowing ball of light zipped into the room. "You got that right, baby cakes," Grace said, her glow lost as she hovered in a sunbeam. "I'm not even supposed to be guarding him, but Madison's not nice to me, and he is. Gave me a bell to sit in and everything."
I glanced at her voice, seeing the backyard behind her and the hedge that Mrs. Walsh somehow saw around, over, or through. "He's really a good driver, Dad," I said. "Wears his seat belt and everything."
My dad laughed, his hand landing on my shoulder again before it dropped away. "I know your mother gave you a lot more freedom - "
"Not really," I interrupted, recalling her strict rules and early curfews, demands that I be proper and respectable like her when all I wanted to do was be myself.
"Call me next time you want to have friends over, okay?"
He turned me around, and together we started back to the kitchen. "I'm sorry; I will." I'd apologized, stated my case without whining - much - and he'd accepted that. I was getting better at this responsibility thing.
"Did you get enough to eat?" he said as we entered the kitchen, and I nodded.
Josh was on his cell phone, and seeing us, he said, "Bye," and closed it. I had a moment of worry that he might be talking to his buddies about that "weird chick Madison," but then dismissed it when he smiled at me. Cripes, he had a nice smile. Better yet, he believed me. It was as if a weight had been lifted. I wasn't alone anymore.
"Thanks for bringing Madison home," my dad said, and I felt better. He liked him, too.
Josh seemed to get that I wasn't in trouble, and he found a more relaxed position. "It wasn't a problem," he said, fiddling with his glass. "Right on the way home."
"On the way home from what?" my dad asked as he got the iced tea out of the fridge.
I hesitated. I hadn't told my dad I was going to the school today.
"School," Josh said, adjusting his glasses and clearly curious to hear the excuse I was going to give my dad for being there. "The track team is running tomorrow at the carnival, so we had a practice. Would you like to sponsor me? It's a dollar per circuit."
"Sure. Put me down," he said, hunched over as he rummaged in the dishwasher for a glass. I winced, remembering I was supposed to empty it this morning. "You're not a long-distance runner, are you?" he asked with mild worry, clearly thinking big bucks out of his wallet.
"No. I'm a miler."
My dad smiled as he poured his tea. I was starting to wish he would go away. I had things to do. People to save.
"Madison, you didn't tell me you were going to do anything for the carnival."
"Uh..." I scrambled for an answer, thinking. "I thought I could, uh, take pictures. But it's a stupid idea."
"No it's not," Josh said, and I could've smacked him. "People love that kind of stuff."
I gave him a look that said to shut up, then smiled when my dad turned from closing the fridge. "Who'd pay for a picture they can't see and won't get until two days later?" I protested.
My dad was nodding, but not in agreement with me. I'd seen that thoughtful expression on him before, and he leaned against the counter with his drink and crossed his ankles. "If that's all you need, I'll get you one of those printers that lets you do it right there," he said, and my stomach dropped. "You give them a ticket, and they pick it up before they leave."
"Really?" I said with forced enthusiasm. Maybe I could call my boss at the flower shop and offer to come in tomorrow to get out of it.
"Sure," he said, then shoved his glasses back up his nose. "I almost got you one for your birthday, but I wanted you to have a better camera first."
I thought of my new camera up on my dresser, used mostly for taking shots of my flashy new wardrobe my dad had gotten me and e-mailing them to Wendy. She'd probably die when she saw the picture of my skull-and-crossbones sneakers. "Thanks, Dad," I said, giving him a pained look, trying to tell him I wanted to be alone with Josh. "I'll talk to someone about it."