The Night Parade(22)

She tugged the ball cap onto her head.

Before climbing out of the car, David blotted the inky runnels of sweat from his forehead with a wad of Kleenex. Then he offered Ellie a sad little smile, hoping the girl would give him one in return.

She didn’t.

“You’re my son, not my daughter,” he reminded her before stepping out into the sunshine.

David was relieved to find that they were the only patrons in the place. The hostess, who also turned out to be their waitress, was middle-aged and portly. She sported a dismal expression that made David limit his eye contact with her. Which was for the best, anyway. She had a paper mask hanging from her neck, similar to the kind David had purchased earlier that morning from the sundries store, and a photograph of two small children pinned where her name tag should be. She led them to a booth and set two laminated menus on the table before departing, quite unceremoniously.

David picked his up, thumbed through its sticky pages. After a time, he glanced up at Ellie in the seat opposite him, who hadn’t moved a muscle since sitting down.

“They’ve got bacon cheeseburgers,” he told her.

“Don’t really care.”

“Honey, you’ve got to eat.”

“I told you I’m not hungry.”

“You’ll be hungry later.”

“Then I’ll eat later.”

There might not be time for that, he thought but did not say. Their situation was still too unreal to him: his daughter seated across from him with a short haircut, wearing a monster truck T-shirt and a blue baseball cap. Not to mention the hilt of the Glock poking into the small of his back. Yes, my friend, it is all too unreal. Like the plot of a movie. Or walking through a dream. For whatever reason, he realized at that moment that he was out the hundred bucks he’d left with the motel proprietor as a security deposit the night before. Shit.

“How about a salad, then?” he suggested. “Something light.”

“I’ll eat if I can call Mom first.”

David scratched a fingernail along a paper place mat. “The cell phone is in the car,” he said. He held his hands out, palms up—what can we do about it now? “We can call her later.”

“I won’t eat unless I can talk to her.”

His thumbnail scratched so hard he tore the place mat. Smoothing over the tear with his palm, he said, “Okay. I’ll get the phone and call. You wait here.”

“I want to talk to her myself,” she said.

“Yes, I know,” he said, sliding out of the booth. “I know, Ellie. Just wait here.”

He walked out of the diner at a quick clip and with his head down. Outside, the daylight seemed overly bright, and he shielded the sun from his eyes with one arm. Sunglasses would have been a good idea, too, he thought. Even better to hide my face. The Olds was parked across the lot, but as he climbed into the driver’s seat, he could see Ellie intently watching him through the diner’s plate-glass window. He waved at her, then held up the cell phone to show her that he was dialing.

He didn’t dial. Instead, he faked it, then held the phone up to his ear. It wasn’t even powered on; it was a cold black brick of plastic pressed against the side of his head. He thought about all the intricate little bits and pieces that made a cell phone work. When he inhaled, he could smell the plastic of the thing. For some strange reason, it brought tears to his eyes.

When he saw that Ellie’s gaze was still on him, he feigned a conversation with someone on the other end of the line. He found it impossible to know how to express himself while speaking nonsense—should he frown, smile, look concerned? He was a horrible actor. He recited a few lines from an old Bruce Springsteen song, then set the phone back down on the console and returned to the diner. Before he could sit down at the booth, Ellie was frowning at him.

“What’s the matter?” she said. “What about Mom? I wanted to talk to her.”

“She’s in treatment right now,” David said, sliding into his seat opposite her. The waitress had returned in his absence, leaving behind two tall plastic cups of ice water with accordion straws.

He thought Ellie’s eyes narrowed just the slightest bit.

“You folks made up your mind?” the waitress said, returning to the table. Her expression was no more pleasant than it had been when she had first shown them to their table. She held the paper mask up over her mouth as she spoke.

“Two bacon cheeseburgers,” David said, ordering for the both of them.

Without another word, the waitress collected the menus and performed her disappearing act once again.

Ellie turned her gaze from him. She plucked the straw from her ice water, her thumb pressed against the straw’s opening at the top. She proceeded to release droplets of water onto her place mat, lifting her thumb in quick little jerks. Whenever she looked up, it wasn’t to address David, but to glance at the television set mounted to the wall over his shoulder.

“You haven’t told me what you think of my new look,” he said.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Do you like it?”

“Not really.”

“Does it at least look natural?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t know.” She still wouldn’t look at him.

When their food arrived, David went overboard saying how delicious the burgers looked, then proceeded to douse his in ketchup. Ellie said nothing, though he was pleased to see that after the first bite it didn’t take any coaxing to get her to finish her meal.