The Hunger Moon by Suzanne Matson Page A

adviser. She thought her aura must have turned to its present dark purple—the color of a bruise, Miriam said—at the moment of her father’s phone call. The jagged red and yellow borders probably emerged during their lunch together.
    He had been enthused about his newest real estate venture and laughing over Melanie’s extravagances at a spa in Florida. June stared at his necktie, trying to remember if it was one she had sent him. Ties were the only present she had given him since he had left them. At lunch he was wearing an expensive-looking jacquard weave of blue and green; she didn’t recognize it.
    “So, why do you waste time on these dance classes, Junie?” He had never stopped calling her by her childhood name. “I mean, I’m sure they’re fun and all, but I don’t see why you have to pay good tuition money to take them. Why not use your electives for some business or computer classes, and take the dance classes at the Y?”
    “I could teach those classes at the Y, Dad. You know I’ve been taking dance for fifteen years now.”
    “Well, why don’t you? Earn some extra money, get your exercisein, and use tuition credits for something useful.”
    “I don’t dance for exercise.”
    “Well, what, then? Oh, never mind, Junie. I can see you getting mad at me. Take whatever you want at school. I’m just trying to be a father here, you know, help you think practically about things. But if you want the dance classes, for God’s sake, take them. Just do me a favor and see that the degree is worth something by the time you finish, okay? Take some meat-and-potatoes courses, not just dessert. I’m happy to put you through school, but afterward you’ve got to be able to cut it yourself, you know, kiddo. Everybody does. Part of growing up.”
    June toyed with her salad.
    “Christ, you’re just like Melanie. Won’t order anything but salad and mineral water, and then you barely eat three bites.”
    June forced herself to ask. “How is Melanie?”
    Her father beamed at her. “Just great. You’d never know that woman was thirty-five. She could pass for your sister if you two were shopping together.” He sawed at his steak. “Actually, June, we’ve got some news. Melanie wanted to be here to help tell it, but this was the only week she could get in at the spa. And when I tell you what’s up, you’ll understand why the spa is so important to her right now.”
    June waited.
    “We’re gonna have a kid, June. What do you think about that? I sure as hell never imagined myself starting over at this age, and Melanie always said she never cared about children—I mean having them,” he corrected himself. “But here we are, going for it. I think that biological-clock thing started to get to her.” Her father popped a French fry into his mouth. “You just going to sit there and stare at me?”
    June wasn’t just sitting there. She was extremely busy telling herself, Don’t change your face, don’t cry, this doesn’t affect you in the least. This does not concern you .
    “That’s great, Dad.”
    “Yeah, it is, kind of.” Her father cleared his throat. “June-bug,
    I know I wasn’t there for you much in the last eight years. I’m sorry about that, but I can’t get those years back. This is a second chance for me to be a dad, so it means a lot that you feel happy for us. I appreciate that. More than you know.” He reached over and squeezed her motionless hand. “And,” he continued dramatically, “it’s going to be a boy. I never thought about it one way or the other when the doctor handed us you,” he said, winking at her. “I thought you were a pretty special package. But now that it’s all going to happen again and we hear that it’s a boy, I’m thinking, great! We’ll do the father-son thing: Cubs tickets, dude ranches, whatever the hell else. I’ll have to read up.”
    “Dad, you hate baseball and you hate dust.”
    “I do hate that shit, Junie. You know me pretty well. Do you think