Ben fails to move. Instead, he slides his hand under the table and grips my knee, urging me to stay seated.
My leg stiffens beneath his touch, because my body is sending mixed signals to my brain. I’m pissed at my father right now. So pissed. But somehow I feel comforted by this complete stranger who is taking up for me for no apparent reason. I want to scream and I want to smile and I want to cry, but most of all, I just want something to eat. Because now I’m actually hungry and I wish I had warm salmon, dammit!
I try to relax my leg so that Ben doesn’t feel how tense I am, but he’s the first guy in a long time to actually physically touch me. It’s a little weird if I’m being honest.
“Let me ask you something, Mr. O’Neil,” Ben says. “Did Johnny Cash have a cleft palate?”
My father is quiet. I’m quiet, too, hoping there’s an actual point to Ben’s random question. He was doing so well until he started talking about country singers.
My father looks at Ben as if he’s crazy. “What in the hell does a country singer have to do with this conversation?”
“Everything,” Ben quickly replies. “And no, he didn’t have one. However, the actor who portrayed him in Walk the Line has a very prominent scar on his face. Joaquin Phoenix was actually nominated for an Academy Award for that role.”
My pulse quickens when I realize what he’s doing.
“What about Idi Amin?” Ben asks.
My father rolls his eyes, bored with this line of questioning. “What about him?”
“He didn’t have a lazy eye. However, the actor who played him—Forest Whitaker—does. Another Academy Award nominee, funny enough. And winner.”
This is the first time I’ve ever seen anyone put my father in his place. And even though this entire conversation is making me uncomfortable, I’m not too uncomfortable to enjoy this rare and beautiful moment.
“Congratulations,” my father says to Ben, completely unimpressed. “You listed two successful examples out of millions of failures.”
I try not to take my father’s words personally, but it’s hard not to. I know at this point it’s become more of a power struggle between the two of them, and less about him and me. It’s just really disappointing that he’d rather win an argument against a complete stranger than defend his own daughter.
“If your daughter is as talented as you claim she is, wouldn’t you want to encourage her not to give up on her dreams? Why would you want her to see the world the way you do?”
My father stiffens. “And how, exactly, do you think I see the world, Mr. Kessler?”
Ben leans back in our booth without breaking eye contact with my father. “Through the closed eyes of an arrogant asshole.”
The silence that follows is like the calm before the storm. I wait for one of them to throw the first punch, but instead, my father reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He tosses cash onto the table and then looks directly at me.
“I may be honest to a fault, but if bullshit is what you prefer to hear, then this prick is perfect for you.” He slides out of the booth. “I bet your mother loves him,” he mutters.
I wince at his words and want so badly to hurl an insult back at him. One so epic that it would wound his ego for days. The only problem with that is there’s nothing anyone could say that would wound a man who has absolutely no heart.
Rather than scream something at him as he walks out the door, I simply sit in silence.
With my fake boyfriend.
This has got to be the most humiliating, awkward moment of my life.
As soon as I feel the first tear begin to escape, I push against Ben’s arm. “I need out,” I whisper. “Please.”
He slides out of the booth, and I keep my head down as I stand and walk past him. I don’t dare look back at him as I head toward the restroom again. The fact that he felt the need to pretend to be my boyfriend is embarrassing enough. But then I had to go and have the worst fight I’ve ever had with my father right in front of him.
If I were Benton James Kessler, I would have fake-dumped me by now.
Ben