“Hey,” I say, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder so I can keep eating. “What’s up?”
“How did everything go?” he asks.
“Fine,” I say, not wanting to talk about the new agent anymore. “I’m glad that case is finally done. Or at least it’s close. There’s still the trial to be had, but after investigation and take down, that should be a cakewalk. We found so much evidence, there’s no way they’re going to be able to talk their way out of it.”
“That’s great,” my cousin says. “Does that mean you’re at your dad’s house?”
“Yep,” I say. “Still on official baby watch. I have Arrow Lake in a couple of days, but other than that, I’m here.”
“Do you mind if we come up there tomorrow?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say. “It’ll be good to see you. I know Dad would like to see you guys, too. Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Dean says. “There’s just something I want to talk to you about.”
“Okay,” I say. “Around lunchtime?”
“Sounds good. See you then,” Dean says.
“Tell Ian not to forget about the bag ties or the meat cooler,” Xavier calls from somewhere in the background.
“Did you hear that?” Dean asks.
“I did.”
“Talk to you tomorrow.”
I hang up and look over at my father. “It truly scares the living hell out of me to relay this to you, but Xavier says not to forget about the bag ties or the meat cooler.”
Dad gives me a look that tells me Xavier’s comment sparked something. His eyes widen and he nods as he finishes a bite of sandwich and puts his plate on the table in front of him. Standing, he goes to the shelves on the other side of the room and picks up a notebook and pen. I watch him scribble what I’m assuming is the note from Xavier before he comes back and sits back down.
I stare at him for a few more seconds, waiting for him to give me some sort of explanation, but he doesn’t.
It’s finally happened. Xavier has officially gotten to my father.
Six
The next day, food from my favorite Thai restaurant, one of the couple things I long for now that I live in Sherwood, arrives just before Dean and Xavier. When they get there, I open the door and give each a hug before Xavier makes a beeline across the living room toward my father.
“Do different brands count as the same item?” he starts. “And what about those little signs sticking out from different shelves saying items are on sale? Are they actually on sale? If somebody picked those up would they be worth less than if somebody picked a different brand? Even if its original brand was worth more originally? Or is it all a ruse?”
I look over at Dean. “Do you know what that’s all about?”
Dean shakes his head. “Xavier says it has something to do with a game and investigative journalism. A book that’s going to blow the lid off nineties culture.”
I glance across the room toward the shelves to find the two men in deep conversation over the notebook my father wrote in yesterday. As he flips through the book, I can see many pages full of notes and diagrams. I look back at Dean.
“Is this something that’s real or that Xavier made up and my father is just going along with because he loves a good delusion?” I ask.
“I wish I had an answer to that.”
“Well, I guess we’ll find out eventually. Food’s here. Want to grab some, then we’ll talk?” I ask.
Dean nods and we go over to the dining room table, where I’ve spread out all the containers of takeout food so they’re easy to access. We each get a plate and start scooping out bits of everything. Dad and Xavier have taken their conversation into my father’s office by the time Dean and I get back into the living room. Eventually, they’ll come up for air and get something to eat, but if they’ve adjourned there, we might be in for the long haul with whatever has wrapped them up.
I drop down into my favorite corner of the couch and settle my plate on my folded legs. This has always been my favorite corner of the couch for no particular reason. I’m sure the other corner is perfectly comfortable. I’ve had my toes wedged in it plenty of times when stretched out sleeping right here during nights I couldn’t bear to go into my bedroom.
There were more of those than I cared to count in the weeks and months after my father disappeared. And then again when my uncle was stalking me.
But this has always been the corner I’ve gone to. Reading, homework, pizza night, TV. I know it well. It’s another of the things I sometimes miss when I’m at home in Sherwood. But amazing Thai food and a well-worn couch corner aren’t enough to lure me back.
“How are you doing?” I ask after my first bite.
It’s one of those questions that doesn’t always mean anything. People ask it and don’t expect a response. They’ll throw it out when walking past somebody they vaguely recognize on the sidewalk, or when they’re starting a conversation with somebody they don’t necessarily want to be in a conversation with over the phone but have to be.
This is the opposite. This time I actually want a response, but the question is heavily loaded and layered. I’m not just asking how he’s feeling or what’s going through his mind. The last few weeks haven’t been easy for Dean. In truth, things haven’t been easy for him at any point in his life. I’m still learning about my cousin and the lives we lived in so many ways side by side and yet completely unaware of each other. And through that, I’m learning about everything he experienced and how it made him into the man he is today.
But I didn’t learn about one of the
