Tom jumped off the front porch to beat Mary to the passenger door of his Ford Escort. Rust dotted the blue paint. It was a piece of junk, but Mary wasn't obsessed with status cars, so she didn't hold it against him.

"Let me get that for you." Tom made a sweeping motion with his left hand as he opened the door.

Mary forced a smile at his kind gesture. "I'm sorry. He can be such an asshole."

"Don't worry about it. We don't choose our parents." Tom laughed before shutting the door gently. He pushed on it with his hip to make sure it was closed.

The evening sun glared off the front window of Mary's house. Though she couldn't see him, she assumed her dad was glaring at Tom through a cloud of smoke. He didn't like her doing anything but going to school and taking care of him and the house.

Flopping into the driver's seat, Tom asked, "Are you still fine with putt-putt?"

"Unless you want to do something else?"

"Do you want to?"

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "No. I'm good with putt-putt."

"Cool. Me too."

He fished his keys out of his front pocket, started the car, and backed out of the driveway, avoiding all the vehicles parked on the narrow street. A group of boys on BMX bikes rode recklessly straight at them. Tom slowed and let the boys pass while he adjusted the air-conditioning knobs on the console. The faint smell of his cologne tickled her nostrils. Drakkar Noir. Her favorite.

"Radio?" His finger already on the button.

"Sure."

Music blared through the car's sound system. Surprised, she jumped in her seat. Tom feverishly stabbed at the volume control until the noise was at a tolerable level. She smiled behind her hand; he was more nervous than her. That put her more at ease.

"What type of music do you like?"

"I don't care,' she said. "You pick."

Using one of the preset buttons, it jumped to a heavy metal station. She scrunched up her nose, so he found a top 40 music channel. One of her favorite songs was playing, causing her body to sway slightly. He left it there.

"Which putt-putt place are we going to?" she asked.

"Sportsway. Is that all right?"

"Doesn't your friend, Jake, work there?"

"Rick too. Sometimes they get me in for free, but I think they're working on the go-cart track tonight."

"No worries. I can pay for myself."

Tom shook his head. "I asked you out. I'm paying."

"Ok. Sorry that I have to be home by eleven."

"It's fine. We'll have plenty of time for golf and ice cream before your curfew. Was your dad serious about me not seeing you again if we're late?"

"I don't know. Probably," she stammered, picking at a piece of lint on her shorts. "He never seems happy, but after my mom died, I think he wants everyone else to be as miserable as him."

"That sucks."

"Tell me about it. He is my dad, and I love him and all— but he's kind of a jerk. When I was a kid, he spanked me all the time. I'd have to pull my pants down and bend over his knee. He'd hit me so hard that my butt would be bright red."

The car was silent except for the radio. Mary looked over at Tom; his eyes were wide. He was probably picturing her ass covered with red welts in the shape of her dad's hand. She couldn't believe she'd told him that. But it wasn't a surprise, she was pretty nervous, and when that happened, the words spilled out of her dumb mouth. Still it was embarrassing. She wanted to throw herself from the moving car but thought better of it, figuring she'd likely survive at this speed.

Hoping to maintain some sense of dignity, she added, "Now I just get grounded."

Which was better than being hit with a thick belt. Once she'd reached middle school, he'd started using a two-inch leather strap on her. She guessed he wanted to make a bigger impression on her. Literally. And since it was the 80s, the authorities didn't care. It was considered good parenting to beat your kids, so they'd know right from wrong.

Thankfully, Mary hadn't been whipped in years, but after a few beers, her dad would still threaten her— a hand on his belt buckle, so she guessed it was still a possibility. That said, the groundings weren't bad, especially since she didn't have much of a social life. Not that there was anything she could do about it; she either had to accept his rules or live on the streets. The last grounding had been two months ago. He'd claimed it had been for getting mouthy, but she knew otherwise. She slipped and told him about her plans for college.

Tom winked at her. "It's no big deal. My dad spanked me too."

"Yeah, but I bet he isn't a jerk."

"No. He was a great guy, but he's gone too. He passed away last year."

Damn it. The story had been all over school. Why did she keep putting her foot in her mouth? She asked nervously, "It was a hit and run, right?"

'Yeah. They never found the guy."

"That sucks."

He turned away to brush a tear from his eye. "It does."

She reached for his hand, the one not on the steering wheel. It felt warm and a little sweaty. But really good. Natural. Like they'd been holding hands forever.

"I'm sorry. I know how you feel." She gently squeezed his fingers. "My mom died of cancer three years ago. I still can't believe she's gone."

Tom said, "Losing my dad put this big hole in my heart, and I don't think it will ever heal over. It'll just be something I have to live with. But that's not the worst part. It's that everyone knows that you're damaged. You can see it when the kids at school look at you. Which makes everything weird. And you just want things to go back to normal. You want to be normal . . . but you never will."

Mary brushed away a tear of her own. She'd never felt this close to anyone before. Not even her friend, Sharon. Tom knew exactly how she felt. Lost. Broken. She wondered if they could find a way to heal together. Was love at first conversation a thing? It might just be.

Mary asked, "How is your mom dealing with it?"

"Not good. She tries, but I doubt she'll ever get over losing him."

"Yeah. My Dad too. Afterward, he was super nice to me for a while, but then he started being a jerk again. He treats me like a servant, demanding that I cook and clean for him. It's like he wants me to be her replacement. It's nothing sexual. He's not a jerk like that, but he doesn't know how to take care of himself— and doesn't want to learn."

"What about college? Won't he have to learn then?"

"That was our last fight. He doesn't want me to go away, but I don't care. I'm going." She nodded her head for emphasis. "What school are you going to?"

"Michigan State. I wanted to go to the University of Michigan, but I got waitlisted," he replied with a shrug.

"Me too."

"We make quite the pair."

She smiled. "I'm glad you asked me out."

He smiled back. "We've never really talked. I'm surprised you said yes."

"I heard you were a nice guy. So I figured, why not? I could always bail if you were a prick— but now I know you're not. I've told you things I've never told anyone, and you didn't make me feel weird or like a loser. Thanks."

His face turned red. "No problem."

They pulled into the Sportsway parking lot. The fun center had go-carts, batting cages, a snack bar, and putt-putt golf. It was a popular spot for families during the day, but teenagers took it over at night. Kids not only from their town but from surrounding cities would descend on the park, looking for fun. And trouble. It wasn't uncommon for fights to break out amongst cross-town rivals still bitter over losing the big game.

Tom found a parking spot and pulled in. "Ready for some putt-putt?"

"I am, but now you have me wondering."

"About what?"

"Why did you ask me out? You don't know me either. It isn't like we have any classes together."

"That'sa good question." He hastily opened the car door and got out.