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that the moment was over.
      
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “It’s not that…I’m okay with seeing and touching
your scar. It’s…” she lowered her head and began to trace the lines in the palm
of her hand.
      
“It’s because we’re in my car; not exactly a romantic place for what we want to
do,” I smirked.
      
Her head spun. She had an innocent look in her eyes. Maybe I misinterpreted her
emotions? “You didn’t…want to?” I sank back in the seat and rubbed my forehead.
“Sorry, I thought—”
      
“I did…I mean, I do want to.”
      
I looked over at her again. She went on, “But I still feel like everything
between us is taking off too fast. We need to cool down a bit,” she smiled
nervously, I knew what she meant.
      
“Yeah, our heat level has been rising.”
       “Mmm-hmm.”
      
I watched as she fixed her coat, composing herself.
      
“Let me know when you’re ready.” I reached over and twisted a strand of her
hair around my finger. When she slanted her head and stared at me, I saw so
much love within her eyes my heart raced.
      
“We’ll go as slow as you want,” I added, before pulling my hand away to start
the car. Moya watched me from the corner of her eye as I backed away from the
docks.
      
“Let’s hang out tomorrow before you drive back to campus, okay?”
      
Nodding, she replied, “Okay. Oh, you want to go to Berlin Heights Christmas Eve
festival? It’ll be fun.”
       “Yeah. I’ll go anywhere with you.”
      
“Cool.”
      
When I drove her home, and walked her to the front door, Moya seemed unwilling
to let go of my hand. Eventually, she did. I kissed her goodnight, and watched
as she entered her house. All the time thinking, why was it so hard for her to
say the words she’d already said to me? And how long could I go on not saying
them again either?
     

      
      
Dad was sitting in the living room with the lights off, an opened bottle of
whiskey in one hand as he stared into space.
      
“Is that you, Ashton?” he asked as I entered the room, hidden by darkness.
      
I turned the lights on, answering, “No. It’s Branden. Why are you sitting in
the dark, drinking?  I didn’t even know you liked whisky.”
      
I sat down in the chair next to his. “Is everything alright, Dad?”
      
He exhaled deeply before answering, “Yes.  I’m alright.” Placing the
bottle on top of the glass coffee table, Dad rubbed his eyes vigorously. I
glanced down at the whiskey bottle, it was almost finished.
      
“Sorry about our behavior earlier,” he rasped. “Your girlfriend was probably
uncomfortable.”
      
“Yeah, what was that about? I thought you and Mom were cool.”
      
“Ha. Did you see how she tried to make me look bad? Branden, I’ll tell you
this,” He stood and walked over to the fireplace, slouching with his hands
inside his pants pockets. “Your mother and I will never be cool. Too much has
happened between us that can’t be fixed.”
      
Then he turned to face me. “And did you know your brother’s going to Spain to live ?”
      
Damn. So that’s what started the bad vibe around here. “Yeah, he told me.”
      
“Well, of course he’d tell you this ridiculous idea first. It’s because you
always support him.”
      
“What?” I jumped up from the chair. “It’s not ridiculous. It’s what he wants.
And so what if I support him? At least someone in this family does.”
      
Dad pointed at me, speaking in a serious tone, “He made that decision on an
impulse just to get away from us.”
      
“Yeah, can you blame him? I want to get away too.”
      
“Oh, don’t you start now.” He waved me off as if I was starting to annoy him.
Walking back to the table to retrieve the whiskey, he chugged the remainder
straight from the bottle.
      
I should stop him; take the bottle out of his hand. Clearly he was using
alcohol to cure his troubles, but for some reason…I didn’t