The You I've Never Known(36)

some burglar must have stolen it.

We only stayed at Rhonda’s a few more

days, and after we left I saw that green stone ring exactly one more time— right before Dad pawned it. That night, as we enjoyed a steak dinner, I asked, “Daddy? Why did you tell me Rhonda

said it was okay to play dress-up with her stuff? I think it made her mad.”

Across the table, he lowered his eyes, and what I saw inside them made

me want to duck. You listen to me.

I never told you it was okay to go in that woman’s room. You’re making that up, and I won’t have my daughter turn into a lying whore like her mother.

Do you understand me? You’d better.





I Didn’t Know


Exactly what a whore was, but I understood him just fine, and never brought it up again.

Some things don’t need a detailed explanation.

But it wasn’t the last time he made me believe one thing, then yanked my certainty right out from under me. He’s sort of an expert, and even though I realize it, I always seem to give him the benefit of the doubt and heap blame on myself.

Does that make me crazy, or only sympathetic to his own eccentricities?

I think maybe he’s only testing my sense of loyalty.

I hope I rate an A-plus.





Especially Because


I need his cooperation now.

The coffee idea seems to have worked because he comes

padding into the kitchen,

wearing flannel pajamas

that have seen better days.

“God, Dad. Buy yourself

some new pj’s, would you

please? That material is so

thin, I can see your hairy

legs right through it.”

Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s creepy to check out your old man’s leg hair? I didn’t raise a pervert, did I? Now, how about a cup of that coffee?

“I’ll pour it for you, but you have to decide if you want

sugar and cream in it. I’m not exactly experienced at

barista-ing. It could be gross.”

Maybe I should make you take a sip first, prove it’s not poison . . . or piss. Pretty sure that’s how they make it at the so-called coffee shop Zelda is so damn fond of.

I hand him a cup without tasting it first, and he takes a tentative slurp. His eyes fly open wide and his upper lip

snarls and I’m thinking I did something terribly wrong

until he smiles. Just kidding.

It’s not bad at all. If your little girlfriend was the one who taught you how to make coffee, please give her a big thank-you kiss for me. Did he really just say that?

Does that mean he suspects?

But, no. It must be another

of his not-so-funny jokes,

or else I would’ve heard

judgment in his voice.

He carries his cup over to

the table, sits. What’ve you got going on today? You planning on seeing that boy or what?

Uh-oh. This could go a number of ways, so I’ll head him off at the pass. “No. But now that you’ve asked, I’m hoping you’ll drive me into town. I want to go to the hospital and visit Hillary.”





He Looks at Me


Long and hard, but apparently

doesn’t discern anything

suspicious in my body language.

Still, he comments, I didn’t realize that girl was a friend of yours.

I avoid saying she isn’t exactly.

“She’s starting guard on our team.

I want to find out how she’s doing.”

He shrugs. Okay by me. I was going over to Zelda’s anyway.

Ka-ching. “I’m going to meet

Monica there and we’ll hang out somewhere until you’re ready

to come get me, if that’s all right?”

As long as the two of you aren’t picking up strange men.

No problem there, Dad, and

now I can quit worrying

that you’ve intuited our secret.

“When can we leave? I want

to give Monica a time frame.”

Time frame? How about when I’m damn good and ready?





To Be Fair


He answered my question.

I go shower,

brush my teeth,

dress in my usual

jeans and tee, this time a long-sleeved shirt in pastel teal.

The shade of a sunrise sea.

Monica likes this

color on me, says

it contrasts nicely with the quiet titian of my hair. Well, not in those exact words.

She said it en espa?ol.

I’m starting to like the Spanish language, not that I know much of it yet, but it’s soft and rolling and mostly logical, near as I can tell.

If I were more fluent, I’d make this call in Monica’s family’s native tongue. One day.





This Day


I manage a simple, “Hola,

novia. ?Cómo estás?” Most

tourists would know how

to ask how someone’s doing

so I don’t feel especially

smug about remembering

that much. And now I switch

to the language I’m fluent in.

“Dad says he’ll bring me