The Shippers(69)

“She definitely did. She said, and I quote, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’”

“I reject her rejection,” I said.

“Is that allowed?”

“You didn’t make your case for yourself!” I said. “She’s making the same decision as before because she only has the same information as before. You haven’t talked to her.”

“I can’t talk to her,” my dad said.

“Sure you can,” I said. “You’ve been married thirty years.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” my dad said. “It’s because we’ve been married thirty years.”

I was just about to gently explain to him that he was making zero sense when he went on.

“I’ve built my whole life around her. She’s the reason I do everything. She’s the reason I get up in the morning. She’s the reason I go to work. I don’t know who I am without your mom—or why I am. But there’s no way to explain that to her. There aren’t words in the world that can capture it.”

“Dad!” I said, totally making heart eyes. “You’re a complete romantic!”

“I know what you’re thinking,” my dad said. “You’re thinking how can she mean that much to me when I was never around?”

“I mean, I wasn’t thinking that. But it’s a good question.”

“She’s my Penelope.”

“She’s your who?”

My dad blinked at me, like How are you not getting it? “Penelope. From the Odyssey.”

“Are you explaining your love life to me through the works of Homer?”

“Odysseus’s whole purpose in life is to get home to Penelope,” my dad said. “That’s your mom for me.”

Okay, that was actually unbelievably sweet.

Was I going to have to rethink all my theories about my dad? Or worse—go read Homer?

“So,” I said, “what I’m hearing is, the pressure of that conversation is making you clam up.”

My dad nodded, like it was hopeless. “Give me a Cyclops any day of the week. But a conversation? With your mother? I’m doomed.”

I looked down to check my phone. Cooper still hadn’t texted me back, but my mother had.

Sigh, she typed. On my way.

“Dad,” I said, “Mom’s on her way, and I’ve gotta get going.”

“Don’t leave me,” my dad said.

“Maybe this is an opportunity for you,” I said. “Maybe being a little drunk will make it easier to talk to Mom.”

“You think so?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t recommend it on a daily basis. But given the situation … it’s worth a shot.”

He sighed like it was hopeless.

“Talk to her. You’re a marine. You’re great at physical courage. This is emotional courage. It’s the same thing—only harder.”

My dad frowned.

“But that’s what the bourbon is for!” I tried to sound encouraging. “Your inhibitions are down, and she’s on her way. Let all that alcohol fuel you to excellence! Haven’t you read Brené Brown? It’s our vulnerabilities that connect us! Don’t be a tough guy. Be tender! Be desperate! Cry a little if you have to!”

My dad gave me a look like now I’d really gone too far.

I sighed. “Just tell her how you feel, okay?”

My dad didn’t argue with that. He nodded like life had defeated him. “Okay.”

I stood up and grabbed my shoes to go. “You’ve got this!” I said, putting out my fist for a bump. “What Would Odysseus Do?”

My dad didn’t seem to follow my meaning. “Poke out the eye of the Cyclops?”

“No,” I said. “He’d keep going! He wouldn’t give up. He’d be the hero of his own story, and he’d take Penelope in his arms, and he’d tell her the truth about how much he always loved her.”

“I don’t think the Odyssey is a love story.”

“Maybe that depends,” I said, “on how you read it.”



* * *



BY THE TIME I finally made it to Cooper’s hallway, a full half hour had elapsed—and still no reply text from Cooper. And it wasn’t until I got close to our room that—with a plummet in my chest—I realized why.

Because when I got to our door … there was a sock on the doorknob.

At the sight, I stopped walking.

Then I put my hand over my mouth.

Then I double-checked the cabin number.

Then I tiptoed a little closer to peer at it.

Yep. That was one of Cooper’s socks. One of Cooper’s dirty socks, to be specific. Straight outta the laundry pile.

Holy shit. A sock on the doorknob?! Was it a sex sock? Was Cooper in there doing unspeakable things with Bridesmaid Two?

Focusing on the bright side, there were no … sock noises emanating from the room.

That was a blessing, at least.

Could it be a joke? Should I knock?

But the second I had that thought, I wanted to snatch it back out of my mind. You couldn’t pay me a thousand dollars to even touch that door right now, much less knock on it.