““I’m glad your father doesn’t like you.” “Pardon?” I’d been in the process of lifting my hamburger when she’d spoken. Now I held it suspended, halfway to my mouth, certain I’d misheard her. She took a bite of pancake, chewed, swallowed a gulp of water and repeated, “I’m glad your father doesn’t like you.” “And why is that?” “He sounds like a tool. If he liked you, I would think there’s something wrong with you.” I gave her a sideways look.“That . . . sorta makes sense””
