"I guess you want to talk to your mother," dad says as soon as he picks up the phone. It's his way of avoiding talking to me, a little, and using a joke to diffuse the tension he probably feels, since I'm pretty sure my mom's tests didn't go so well.
I make him stay on the phone for a few minutes more, get him talking a little, let him know I'm onto him, help him forget he's worried.
"Peach iced-tea, peaches and cream, peach cobbler," he finishes after he's loosened up a bit, "and I realized: peach is actually my favorite fruit."
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