She opened her mouth to say something else but I spoke first.
"You'd better go with him." I told her.
"What?" She asked, looking at me as if I'd betrayed her.
"Nothing can be accomplished right now." I said. "This situation can only get worse. Go with him and try to talk to him. Tell him what I'm like."
"I KNOW what you're like." Mr. Blackmore told me. "I know exactly what you're like."
"Now you listen here!" Dad yelled, taking a step forward. "My son…"
"Dad." I said sharply, using my adult voice. "Let it go. It'll be all right."
Dad paused with his mouth open. He didn't look like he wanted to let it go and I was absurdly touched by this. My Dad, one of the mildest mannered people I knew, seemed on the verge of violence because someone was slandering his son's reputation.
"It's okay Dad." I told him again. "Let it go."
"Get out here Nina!" Mr. Blackmore said again. "Now!"
"Bill?" Nina asked again, looking miserable.
"Go Nina." I told her. "Talk to him. It's for the best. But wait until he's cooled down a little. And remember that I love you."
"Love?" He repeated. "You truly are…"
"Hey!" I barked, taking a step towards him, my eyes boring into his. It had the desired effect, he stopped talking and looked at me. "You have what you came for." I told him. "Nina is leaving with you, right Nina?"
"Yes." She cried.
"You don't need to stand here and continue to throw insults at me. Just go."
We stared at each other for a moment and I could see in his eyes that he was starting to glimmer that he wasn't dealing with an ordinary teenager. Finally he nodded. "C'mon Nina." He told her. "Let's go."
She gave me one last look and then followed her father out the door. She climbed into her mother's car while Mr. Blackmore climbed into his. A second later they were gone, leaving Dad and I standing in the doorway.
We looked at each other for a moment.
"Apparently Mr. Blackmore doesn't care too much for you?" He asked mildly.
I suppressed a smile. "Apparently not." I agreed.
He shut the door and looked at me for a moment. He rubbed his temples. "What are you going to do now?" He asked.
"Give it a few days." I said. "That's what I'm going to do. Hopefully Nina will be able to bring him around to at least tolerating me."
"And if she doesn't?"
I shrugged. "I love her Dad." I said. "I plan to marry her some day. I don't think her Dad is strong enough to keep us apart. One way or another we'll be together. Although I'd prefer to be with her with her Dad's consent. If she can't bring him around I guess I'll go over and have a talk with him. Maybe that will help."
"Or maybe he'll shoot you dead on his porch." Dad suggested half-seriously.
"Ahh Dad," I said. "At least that way I'd die poetically. In the name of love. Wouldn't that be glorious?"
Dad continued to stare at me, not even cracking a smile at my glory of love line. Finally he said, "Bill, don't you think it's about time you had a little talk with ME?"
"A talk?" I asked.
"A talk." He confirmed. "I should have brought this up before now and I really wish that the straw that broke the camel's back hadn't happened on a day that I was hung over, but I really think it's time."
"What are you talking about Dad?" I asked weakly.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about." He told me. "It happened nearly two years ago now. One day you were Bill the underachiever. A nasty, typical teenager that didn't want anything to do with his parents, that hated his sister, that wouldn't listen to a word anyone told him. The very next day you were cleaning your room, improving your grades, making great strides to improve your relationship with Tracy, and…" He paused, "And you became somewhat of a hit with the girls. Much more of a hit than I've ever seen anyone be, adult or teenager. Something happened to you, something big, and it changed you completely. Sometimes you seem very adult in manner. VERY adult. In fact you almost seem like someone who has seen a little bit of everything. At the same time you've made frighteningly accurate predictions about the stock market and events in the news. So how about we start to talk about it?"
"Dad," I started, not sure what I was going to say.
"Bill." He told me. "It's time. I can't go on like this any longer. Tell me what happened to you."
I frowned, looking at him. What to do?
Finally I came to a decision. "Dad," I asked. "You ever smoke grass?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"
"Don't give me the standard Dad answer." I told him. "Tell me the truth. You grew up in the sixties. You went to college during the summer of love. You used to attend anti-war protests. Mom told me you burned your draft card and got arrested for it. I've seen pictures of you when you were in college. You looked like a hippie. So tell me, have you ever smoked grass?"
"Of course." He told me. "I used to smoke it quite a bit in college. But what does that…"
"Meet me in your den." I told him. "And I'll tell you everything."
"But…"
"Just do it Dad. I have a joint upstairs. We need to smoke it together."
"You have a JOINT?" He asked sternly. "Bill, how dare you…"
"Dad." I said mildly. "As you pointed out, I'm not a typical teenager. If you want to hear what I have to say I think you're going to want to smoke some pot first. It's quite a story."
"I can hear your story just fine without smoking any pot, thank you." He told me. "And I want you to march right upstairs and throw away whatever marijuana you have in this house and never bring it in here again. What did you think…"
"Dad," I interrupted. "What I have to tell you is pretty mind-blowing, okay? You're going to need to put aside your parental attitude for a while.
You've mentioned that I act like an adult at times. Well this is one of those times. If I'm going to tell you this story you're going to need to speak with me as an equal, not a teenager. In order to speak with me as an equal we need to BE equal. Smoking pot with me will serve that purpose." I smiled. "Besides, it'll probably get rid of your hangover."
He stared at me for a moment, giving the extended version of THE LOOK. Finally he nodded. "I guess I'll do about anything to get rid of this hangover." He said. "Meet me in there quick before my better judgement makes me beat your ass and ground you."
"Right." I said, heading upstairs.
We closed ourselves in to Dad's den, locked the door, and I produced the joint. I lit it with a lighter, took a good hit, and then passed it over to Dad. He took it from my fingers and looked at it for a minute.
"Bill, this is nuts." He said. "I haven't done this in fifteen years. You're my son for God's sake. Fathers are not supposed to smoke Mary Jane with their sons."
"Buds Dad." I told him, exhaling my hit. "We call it buds these days. Take a hit."
He gave me one more doubtful look, sniffed a little at the joint, and finally put it to his lips. He inhaled, making the tip glow and then coughed a pungent cloud of smoke out.
"It tastes like a skunk." He complained. "Bill, I don't think…"
"It's supposed to taste like that." I told him. "That means its good shit. Hit it again. Slower this time."
He tried again. This time he managed to hold the hit for about fifteen seconds before he coughed it out. He passed the joint back to me and I quickly took another hit. When I gave it back to him he tried to refuse it.
"Hit it Dad." I insisted. "If you want to hear this story you gotta be stoned. That's the rules."
"I can't believe I'm doing this." He muttered but took the joint anyway.
By the fourth hit Dad was starting to mellow. He stopped trying to refuse the joint when I passed it to him. In fact he even began making jokes.
"Don't Bogart that joint my friend." He told me when I took an especially long hit. He then began chuckling.
"Wouldn't dream of it Dad." I told him, feeling the drug going straight to my head.