Chapter 23

“Is that why there’s a poster of a muscular superhero taped to the ceiling over your bed? Thor, is it?”

I didn’t want to know how my fifty-year-old father knew who Thor was, but I nodded and said yes.

“Does Rocco like superheroes too?” he asked.

I hid my face in my hands, embarrassed, feeling sick, the tiny hairs on my arms tingling. “I don’t know, Dad. That’s not the point.”

He shrugged. “Yeah. All right. It’s cool.”

“You’re not going to give me a lecture or yell at me or ground me for a week?”

He shook his head. “No.” He unlocked the passenger door. I started to get out, one leg hanging out the door, when he said, “That’s your mother’s department. I’m the nice parent.”

“Dad.” I was almost whining.

“Jay, it doesn’t bother me in the least. You’re my son. It’s the twenty first century. If you want to date another guy, go ahead. As long as he doesn’t hurt you.”

“Geez, Dad, you’re old. Nobody dates anymore.”

“Then what do you young people call it?”