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remember she‘s on a date, which just makes me feel more like a loser. Anyway, she‘d just repeat the advice she‘s been giving me for the last month: (A) jump him, (B) ask him pointblank what‘s going on with us, or (C) drop him like a bad habit. I tried to explain to her that I don‘t want to set myself up for rejection, especially in case Wes isn‘t sure of his feelings yet, so that rules out A and B. As for C, I can‘t drop him, I‘m in too deep. That‘s the one thing Amy can‘t seem to understand. She‘s never gotten emotionally involved with any guy.

    Without thinking about it, I walk into the living room, where Dad is sitting in his armchair reading Fishing World. Then, for the first time in years, I climb onto his lap and bury my head in his chest.

    He puts down his magazine and hugs me. ―You all right, Dom?‖ After a pause he asks, ―Is it that Wes boy? I mean, Wes?‖

    I feel myself choking up, and I nod.

    ―You really like this kid, don‘t you?‖

    I squeak, ―Mmm-hmm.‖

    ―You know, hon…if he hasn‘t stepped up to the plate by now, maybe he‘s not going to.‖

    ―I just know he likes me, Daddy, even if he doesn‘t know.‖

    ―I‘m sure he likes you. Mom and I both thought he liked you when we met him.‖

    ―Really?‖ I almost smile. ―But then why…?‖

    ―Maybe he‘s intimidated. Guys can be real cowards.‖

    ―Intimidated?‖ I sit up and wipe my eyes with my knuckles. ―Please. I am so nothing special.‖

    ―Nothing special?‖ Dad roars. Then he clears his throat and goes on more calmly. ―Dominique, you do well in school, you‘re a beautiful girl, and, most important, you‘re a fabulous daughter and friend. That‘s pretty damned special in my book.‖

    I shake my head no in response.

    He asks, ―In what way do you think you‘re not good enough for this kid?‖

    ―It‘s just that…I‘m starting to realize I don‘t even know if I like myself. I have no idea who I am, and there‘s nothing I enjoy doing all that much.‖ I point to my Science Quiz certificates on the mantelpiece. ―Take SQ. I just do it because it looks good on my résumé, and it‘s the only club at Shorr where I can contribute something. I don‘t genuinely care about it, though. I don‘t have any real hobbies.‖

    ―You have hobbies! You love biology! I thought you were pretty sure about becoming a doctor.‖

    I take a deep breath and say, ―Do I want to be a doctor? Do I really want to be a doctor? I know I‘ve been saying I do all along. But now I‘m starting to think it was just…inertia leading me down that path. If medicine really was for me, wouldn‘t I be tearing through medical journals in my spare time? Or volunteering at hospitals? I don‘t even watch ER ! If being a doctor were my true calling, wouldn‘t I be thinking about it at least as much as I think about Wes?‖

    Dad smiles. ―You know what? I think it‘s good you‘re confused about the future. That means you‘re open to more possibilities. I like being a policeman, but I wish I had taken more time to explore my options instead of jumping into the academy straight out of college. You don‘t need to have your life planned out right now.‖

    ―I‘m not asking to have my life planned out, I just want a life! Wes is only a year older than me, but he‘s thinking about so many things other than me, like track and training for the New York City Marathon, and he reads at least one or two books a week. But he‘s all I seem to think about, all I want to think about. It‘s like I have no control anymore over what I can think about, and it‘s so exhausting…. But I want him, Daddy! And I want him to want me!‖

    I start bawling at full throttle. I must look like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum, but it also feels good to let it all out. A few minutes later, when my wails wind down to sniffles, Dad asks,
    ―Hey, Dom, do you…do you really feel you, you know, love this guy?‖ He chokes on