My legs are on fire after afternoon practice. Coach didn't like how we were dragging during our last game, so he made us do squats. Not the flat footed kind, oh no, those are easy. We had to do squats while standing on the balls of our feet. And we had to hold our arms out in defensive mode.

I know I saw the coach grinning a couple of times. He's a nice guy, but there are times when he's kind of a jerk. Today being a prime example.

Anyway, as I limp into the house, I see my dad's back as he stands at the sink. His shoulders are slumped and his head is down.

"Hey, I'm gonna go take a shower and I'll probably just have a bowl of cereal for dinner," I say.

He turns around, his eyes are red and his expression drawn. "Sure. I fixed that hole in your wall," he says.

"When'd you do that?" I ask, because when I left for school the hole was still there.

"This morning. I took the day off."

I blink in surprise. "You took the day off? What's the occasion?" I joke.

He doesn't smile, just leans against the sink and crosses his arms against his chest. "Just needed a day, that's all."

"Have you been crying?" I ask, my voice quiet. I'm not sure if I even want him to acknowledge me.

"No, Rory, I haven't been crying," he says, but he doesn't sound angry, just tired.

Neither of us say anything and I start for the hall.

"Hey, Ror, about the other day. Sorry I put a hole in your wall."

"Uh huh."

It dawns on me that my dad is changing. He used to be superman in my eyes. He could do anything. He was always bigger than life. But now he seems scared of something. It's like maybe there is something bigger than him.

"Hey, after my shower, you want to take the boat out?" I ask. It's an olive branch. My way of telling him that the wall thing is behind us.

"Sure, that'd be nice."

It seems that everything around me is changing. I'm still the same Rory, but everything else is different.

Showering quickly and then haphazardly drying off,I put on a flannel shirt and pull on my thickest sweat jacket. Then tug my wool beanie onto my head, my damp curls poking out from the edges.

Dad got some sandwiches, chips and a couple of Dr. Peppers and put them in a bag to take with us out on the creek.

"Hope you didn't have your heart set on cereal," he teases.

Tonight Dad doesn't even try to get the boat down to the water, he lets me do all the work. He grabs the oars as I push us off the shore. Dad rows us out to the middle, and when he pulls the oars in we start to drift.

"So, what made you take a day off?"

"Sometimes life is a lot like being on roller skates. Everything starts out good then you start gaining speed and before you know it, you're out of control. That's when you gotta stop. The world won't end if I take a day for myself. The lumber shop won't fall apart if I'm not there."

"So, can I stay home from school?"

"No sir. What you're going through is different. You're just growing up."

I should have figured he'd come up with something to play down my problems.

"I have another game on Wednesday. You don't have to come or anything."

"Of course, I'm gonna come. Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. You don't like sports."

"I never said I didn't like sports. I never played sports, other than a couple of years in Parks and Rec. Then I went and got banned from there for getting into a fight."

"Why'd you get in a fight?"

Dad looks down and pops the top on his soda. "Some tail hole was making fun of me."

"What'd he say?"

"Just thought it was funny that my daddy gave me matching black eyes."

I don't really know what to say. He doesn't want pity. Maybe not saying anything is the way to go. It's how I'm going anyway.

Dad looks up at me. "So, I heard you went and tried to make peace with your mother."

Granddad promised me he wouldn't tell. I guess Dad knew what I was thinking because he says this. "Don't get mad at him, Ror. He was worried about you."
He lifts his drink to his lips and takes a sip. "What made you go see her?"

"I don't understand how she can hate me."

"Rory, she doesn't hate you. She doesn't love or hate. She doesn't know how, I don't think."

"She threw a fistful of rocks at me."

Dad tenses up. "Did she hurt you?"

"Heck yeah, it hurt. They hit me here and here," I say as I turn my face for him to see the tiny scabs on my cheek and temple.

"How come you didn't tell me? Why'd you go to him?"

Now, I could lie and say I thought he'd be really pissed off and I was afraid he'd yell at me. Or I could go with the excuse that he may have laughed at me. But neither of those things are true. He doesn't lecture. He gives me the silent treatment followed by a total of two or three sentences strewn together. That is a Dean lecture.

"I thought you might try to talk me out of going. Then I was afraid you'd tell me I was stupid for going."

"Naw, you weren't stupid for trying to build a relationship with your mom." Dad laughs softly and shakes his head. "You are a damn sight braver than I am."

A strange feeling of pride takes seed in my chest. Braver than Dean. That's a concept that is hard to wrap my head around.

The creek is eerily quiet as we drift and eat. A comfortable silence has enveloped us. I can see the lights from the house. It looks so far away and small. It isn't a big house, but from here it looks like a dollhouse. Dad looks at the water, the earlier look of fatigue has been replaced. It has been replaced with something resembling sadness.