Джей Эшер - What Light

Now I can tell I’m really freaking her out. “That sounds like another story I need you to tell me.” She instructs me to find Dad while she gets someone to cover the register.

In the parking area, Dad and Andrew load a tree into the trunk of a woman’s car. Half of the tree sticks out from the trunk, so they use twine to keep the lid from flying up. The lady offers Dad a tip but he motions for her to give it to Andrew. After Andrew accepts the tip, he follows Dad back into the lot.

“Hey, honey,” Dad says. He stops in front of me and Andrew stops with him.

I look at Andrew and point my thumb over my shoulder. “You can keep working.”

Andrew gives a smug smile as he walks away. He knows he’s causing trouble. I guess that’s what you do when you like someone who doesn’t like you back.

“Sierra, that wasn’t necessary,” Dad says.

I suppress a well-deserved eye roll. “That’s why we need to talk.”

Mom, Dad, and I walk along Oak Boulevard leading away from the lot. Cars drive by and occasionally a biker pedals past. I take a deep breath and swing my arms, mustering the courage to begin this conversation. Once I start, it comes flowing out, and they let me say it all without interjecting. I tell them everything I know about Caleb, and about his family, and Jeremiah, and what Caleb does with the trees. For some reason, it takes me longer to get the story out than when Caleb told me. Maybe that’s because I feel the need to add so much more about who Caleb is now.

When I’m done, Dad’s frown is even deeper. “When I heard that Caleb attacked his—”

“He didn’t attack her!” I say. “He went after her, but he never would’ve—”

“And you want me to be okay with that?” Dad says. “It was so hard to let you spend time with that boy after hearing what he did, but I wanted to trust you. I thought you had common sense, Sierra, but now I’m worried you’re being naïve, making light of something that—”

“I’m being honest with you,” I say. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“Honey,” Mom says, “ you didn’t tell us. Andrew did.”

Dad looks at Mom. “Our daughter is dating a boy who attacked”—he holds up his hand to keep me from interrupting—“a boy who went after his sister with a knife.”

“So there’s no room for mercy?” I say. “Great lesson, Dad. You mess up once, you’re screwed for life.”

Dad points a finger at me. “That is not—”

Mom intervenes. “Sierra, we’re here for one more week. If this makes your father so uncomfortable, is it something you really need to continue?”

I stop walking. “That’s not the point! I didn’t know Caleb back when it happened, and you didn’t either. But I really like who he is now, and you should, too.”

They’ve both stopped walking but Dad looks out into the street, his arms crossed. “Pardon me for not wanting my only child going out with a boy who I know has a violent past.”

“If you didn’t know what happened years ago and you only knew him now,” I say, “you would be begging me to marry him.”

Mom’s mouth drops. I know I took that a little too far, but my frustration with the conversation is rising by the second.

“You met Mom while working at this very same lot,” I say. “Do you think any of your reaction is because you’re afraid of that happening to me?”

Mom holds her heart. “I can promise I never even thought of that.”

Dad remains looking at the street, but his eyes are wide. “And I can say my heart just stopped.”

“I hate this,” I say. “He’s been labeled this… thing … by so many people for so long. And they’d rather believe the worst of it than talk to him about it. Or just forgive him.”

“If he had used the knife,” Mom says, “there would be no way we’d even—”

“I know,” I say. “I wouldn’t, either.”

With every car that passes, I swing between thinking I won them over and lost them completely.

“But I’ve also been raised to believe that everyone can become better,” I say.

Still facing away, Dad says, “And it would be wrong to get in the way of that.”

“Yes.”

Mom takes Dad’s hand and they look at each other. Without words, together they figure out where they stand. Finally, they turn to me.

“Not knowing him like you do,” Dad says, “I’m sure you realize why hearing what happened with his sister makes us uncomfortable. And I would love to give him a chance, but it’s hard to understand why, when we won’t even be here in two weeks…”

He won’t say it, but he wants to know why I can’t just drop things. Why do I need to make them worry?

“There’s no reason to worry,” I say. “You said it yourself, I do know him. And you know you taught me to be cautious about these things. You don’t have to trust him, just don’t judge him. And trust me.”

Dad sighs. “Do you have to get this deeply involved?”

“It looks like she already has,” Mom says quietly.

Dad looks down at his hands, holding on to Mom’s. He looks at me, but his eyes can only hold mine for a moment. He lets go of Mom’s hands and starts heading back to the lot.

Mom and I watch him walk away.

“I think we’ve all expressed what we’re feeling,” she says. She gives my hand a squeeze and doesn’t let go while we walk back to the lot together.

Every time I give Caleb the benefit of the doubt, he proves himself. Every time I stand up for him, I know I’m right. There have been a million reasons why I could have given up, but every time I don’t, it makes me want to try that much harder to make us work.

That evening it takes me way too long to get ready for dinner with Caleb’s family. I change my outfit three times, ending up in jeans and a cream cashmere sweater, which of course is what I started with. When there’s a knock at the door, I blow my hair out of my face and give myself one last look. I open the door to find Caleb smiling up at me. He wears dark blue jeans and a black sweater with a gray bar across the chest.

He starts to say something, but then stops and looks me over. If his gaze lingers one more second I will need him to say anything , but he whispers, “You’re beautiful.”

I feel my cheeks warm. “You don’t need to say that.”

“I do,” he says. “Whether you can take a compliment or not, you’re beautiful.”

I meet his eyes and smile.

“You’re welcome,” he says. He offers his hand to help me down and then we walk toward his truck. I don’t see Dad, but Mom’s helping a customer in the trees. When she looks over, I point toward the parking area so she knows I’m leaving.

Andrew restocks the netting around the tree barrel and I feel his gaze track us across the lot.

“Hang on,” I tell Caleb.

He looks back at Andrew, who is now blatantly glaring at us. “Let’s just go,” Caleb says. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” I say.

Caleb lets go of my hand and continues to his truck. He gets in and shuts the door, and I wait to make sure he’s not leaving. He impatiently motions for me to do what I need to do, so I turn around and march up to Andrew.

He continues working on the netting and refuses to look at me. “Date night?”

“I talked to my parents about Caleb,” I say. “Of course, I didn’t get to tell them when I wanted to, but when I had to… because of you.”

“And yet they’re still letting you go,” he says. “That’s great parenting.”