“I’m not sure.” I shrug, trying to look casual.
“Are you really trying to convince me that you don’t have the time and panel location memorized or tattooed on your body somewhere?” Ryan asks, eyebrows raised.
“It’s at 11:00,” I say, somewhat sheepishly.
“Perfect. We get there, confront Jason, and then?” He gives me a pointed look. “What exactly do you have planned during D1V’s panel? I mean, if there are some trolls there to cause trouble and heckle, we can’t exactly beat them up or anything.”
“Uhhh...” I think for a moment, remembering that saying D1V seems so fond of.
Don’t read the comments.
“I’ve got a pretty dumb idea,” I say.
“Of course you do.” Ryan grins and pulls me in for a hug.
* * *
After I finish packing, I head downstairs to do the dinner dishes. I’m scraping pizza cheese off a plate when I feel someone’s eyes on me. I glance over my shoulder and see my dad hovering in the doorway, looking pensive and awkward.
“Hey,” I say, turning back to the sink, peeling a piece of mozzarella off in a long, terribly satisfying pull. I flick it at the garbage disposal, and toss the plate into a bin of soapy water. “Thanks for, um, helping back there. With Mom.”
“Aaron,” my dad says, taking a step into the kitchen, his feet heavy against the floor. He pauses. “I know. I know that you know, that is.”
I whirl around, my heart pounding, suds flying off my hands. Dad wrings his wrists, his cheeks flushing. He looks...embarrassed. Caught.
I clear my throat. “How long has it been going on?” I ask, leaning against the kitchen counter. The sharp edge digs into my back as I quietly add, “Does Mom know?”
“Your mom?!” My dad scoffs, and then laughs. “God, no. No, no way. And it’s been...ten years, maybe? Twelve?”
“Twelve—” I start, then cut myself off, my lips trembling with fury. How can he laugh about this? Act like...like it’s nothing? “Dad, you need to talk to her about this. You need to do it before I do.”
“Please, Aaron, she wouldn’t understand.” He shakes his head. “You see how she is with you.”
“Me?” I ask, completely dumbfounded. “What do I have to do with it?”
“I just...” He takes a breath. “I always saw myself doing something more. Having something a little more for myself, not just working with food, and now, this.” He looks off to the side, toward the door that leads into mom’s practice. “Ever since it started, it was sort of my thing. My secret.”
“It’s not fair to Mom. To the family.”
“It’s really not that big a deal, Aaron,” my dad says dismissively.
“Not that... Dad, you’re having an affair!” I spit out, anger brewing up in my chest. “You can’t just expect me to—”
“A what?!”
I look beyond my dad, through the door frame, and into the dining room. There, looking totally stunned, is my mother. She walks over, slowly, her eyes wide, the way people in a horror movie do when they’re approaching something terrifying. My dad turns to her and then back to me, his expression morphing from carefully awkward to utter bewilderment.
“Aaron, what the hell?” he pleads, rubbing his forehead.
“What is he talking about?” Mom asks him, her voice trembling.
“Damn it.” He exhales. “I am not having an affair.”
“Then explain all those letters on the—” I start.
“Oh my God, I’ve been writing fan fiction!” Dad bursts out. His face turns bright red as I stare at him, and he laughs awkwardly. “I saw that someone had opened a bunch of my old Word documents on the office computer, and since your mother hadn’t brought it up, I figured it was probably you.”
My stomach drops.
The overdone letters, with all that flowery language—they weren’t actually for anyone?
“Fan what?” my mom asks. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ve been...trying to write a fantasy novel,” my dad says, sounding terribly embarrassed. “Some of my old coworkers...old friends, from the restaurant, they all play this online game. Ultima. It’s old, but it has these chat room clients, and we catch up sometimes in there. And I write stories set in the world we play in.”
While my dad seems to have a good sense of humor about all of this, the swirl of guilt inside me feels awful. I’ve spent so much time feeling angry at him. Feeling so disappointed, all over nothing. “So those letters—”
“Epistolary works for me,” Dad says, shrugging. He glances at Mom. “Sometimes I write on the office computer. Or play the game with my pals.”
My mom continues to stare at him for a beat, then looks at me.
And then, suddenly, she can’t stop laughing.
“I feel like I should be mad at one of you, or maybe both, but I’m not quite sure where to start,” she says, still chuckling. “Do I get to read this novel?”
“Well, I mean, it’s not a novel yet...” My dad shrugs. “I’m just sort of practicing.” He glares at me. “I wasn’t really ready to talk about it yet.”
“I’m...sorry?” I say, wincing, unsure of what to say here. I feel terrible.
“An affair. Honestly, Aaron.” My dad laughs, but then his eyes narrow, and he studies me, his expression curious. “So, wait. You believed the letters?”
“Well, yeah,” I mutter.
“Hmm.” He touches his beard thoughtfully. “Maybe I’m not too bad.”
“Letters?” my mom asks.
“Yes. There’s a character in the game that my character is married to.” Dad grins. “Inspired by you.”
“Oh great,” I groan.
“Do you want...” He tilts his head at the door to the office. “Do you want to read them?”
My mom smiles softly. “I would love to.”
Dad gives her a goofy grin, and the silence stretches just long enough to start feeling super awkward.
“Still here, guys,” I say, waving an arm around, feeling flustered.
Mom laughs and walks over to give me a hug. “When you get back from your convention, I want to read your story,” she murmurs. “If that’s okay.”
“Mom—”