Her expressionchanges from playful to one of hesitation, and she starts biting onher bottom lip.
“I’m sorry, didI say something wrong? I shouldn’t have asked you such personalquestions,” I say, apologetically.
“No. It’s notthat. You’re fine. It’s just that I don’t want to scare you away bytelling you that umm…I’m not into guys because I’m gay.”
“What? Are youserious?”
Katie puts herhead down and her face gets flushed. “Yes, I’m serious, and youshouldn’t make fun of me for it. That wouldn’t be cool, Jules.”
“Katie, I’m notmaking fun of you. It’s just that, I’m gay too.”
“Stop it. Now Iknow you’re making fun of me.”
“I’m not. Ipromise you. I swear it, I’m gay too. I’d show you I.D but I forgotmy lesbian license in my other jeans.”
“You’re notplaying with me?”
“I’m not.”
She starts tolaugh and then shakes her head. “I’m sorry I was defensive. Noteveryone is okay with it.”
“Fuck’em,” Isay, holding up my cup.
Katie holds herdrink up and knocks it into mine, “Yeah, fuck’em.”
For the nexttwo hours the time breezes past. We talk abouteverything…everything except Abby.
Katie isbeautiful, smart and funny. I think she’s absolutely great, whichat times during our conversation makes me feel a little guilty. Shewas after all, Abby’s foster sister.
I tell herabout Jason and how he flew off to Europe to join his new loveinterest. I talk to her about quitting my old job after years ofworking there, and how I’ll be starting my new job as a P.I.tomorrow.
She’s sosupportive and encouraging. I even talk to her about my dad, prisonand how he’s going to be staying with me. She assures me that if Iever need a friend, she’ll be there for me. Who is this amazingcreature, and why didn’t I respond to her sooner?
After talkingfor hours and night fast approaching, she tells me that she has togo because she gets up at the crack of dawn for work. I stand upand we simultaneously hug. With her body pressed firmly againstmine, I feel all of her curves and smell her soft hair. I feel myinsides tingle and my palms start to sweat.
Driving upRobson Street, all I can think about is her.
Regardless ofhow fucked up and resentful I felt when I left the apartment, myhead is now full of warm thoughts, making it hard to put up a walland be cold toward my father.
When I open thedoor, I see him sitting on the sofa with a glass of water in hishands. He turns and looks at me, his eyes are red from crying. Heputs down the glass, stands up and walks slowly towards me. I standstill as he walks closer. His eyes are apologetic and sincere. “CanI hug you, Jules? Would that be ok?”
The cautiousadult in me wants to stop him, but the part of me that misses mydad, reaches out. When his arms are around me, I feel just howfrail he is. I can feel the bones on his back.
We walk back tothe sofa, and I tell him to sit down while I make him something toeat. He definitely needs to gain some weight. I haven’t forgiven orforgotten anything. I just don’t want the burden of carrying allthat resentment right now.
After rummagingthrough the cupboards and the fridge, I make fettuccini alfredowith garlic bread. Carbs, exactly what he needs.
While we eat,we watch re-runs of Robot Chicken. We used to sit on the sofa andwatch this together, years ago. I can’t deny that I’m feelingconfused about my father staying with me, but for now, I just wantto go through the motions and try not to analyze too much.
* * *
In the morning,I stagger out of bed, put on my housecoat and head to the kitchen.As soon as I step into the hallway, I smell freshly brewed coffee.My father is standing in the living room, looking out of thewindow.
“Wow, you’re upearly,” I say, rubbing my eyes.
“This isn’tearly. In the pen, you’re up before the birds.”
I nod.
“I hope youslept well,” I say, pouring myself a cup of coffee.
“The bed in thespare room was like a cloud. It sure beats the hell out of the thincots I’ve been accustomed to,” he chuckles.
“What are yougoing to do today?” I ask.
“First order ofbusiness, check in with my parole officer and then go straight tothe barbers’ for a haircut and shave. What about you?”
“I start my newjob today. I’m not sure what time I’ll be home, so I’ll leave youthe spare key to get back in. And, Dad, don’t take offense to this,but you can’t do drugs or drink while you’re staying with me. Icouldn’t deal with that.”
“Are youkidding? I’ve been clean since the day they slammed the prisondoors behind me. I’ve got no desire to get high.”
We’ve beenapart for so many years, and I’ve never known him as anything butan addict. Though, there’s a seriousness in his tone that makes mewant to believe him. I guess I have no choice but to give him thebenefit of the doubt.
After I’mdressed, I give my dad some money and head to my new job on SouthGranville.
* * *
When I arriveat the office, I step off the elevator and immediately feelnervous. Thoughts of self-doubt fill my head. What if I suck atbeing a private investigator? Ed will fire me and then I won’t havea job. I’ll be broke and I’ll have to pound the pavement lookingfor work.
By the time Ireach the end of the hall, my hands are sweaty and there’s a lumpin my throat. I open the door and see Ed, sitting at his desk andtalking on the phone. He looks up and motions to me to sit down. Iwait for a few minutes before he finishes his call and hangsup.
“I trust yougot unpacked and settled ok at the apartment?”
“I did, thankyou.”
“Well, today isa busy one. A new case just came in, and I’ve got meetingsdowntown.”
“New case?” Iask.
“Yes, a missingteen. I just got off the phone with his parents. The police have afile on him already but the kid’s mother and father don’t thinkenough is being done to find their son, so they called us. Thiswill be your first solo case.”
“Do
