FELICIA
Today, Dad was driving me to the ice cream parlour where I was meeting up with Gabe. We got into the car, and started off a discussion — my idea of getting a job. I was thinking probably back at the pet store, while I reapplied to another university in the coming year. As I spoke of my idea, he would occasionally stare at me, his hands nervously clutching the steering wheel.
"Is anything the matter?" I asked as I got no reply from my long speech.
He cleared his throat. "Have you — like thought about it? You know, giving it enough thought?" he inquired, quietly, hoping I wouldn't misunderstand what he was telling me. I did understand.
"Indeed, I have," I said. "It would be nice to do something to keep me busy. It'll help me, a lot."
"What did your Mum have to say this?"
"She doesn't know. Yet, anyway. I wanted to think through it for a while, and I'm sure about it. In my bones."
