He turned back to me. “I’d love to have a coffee with you. Why don’t you come by the job site sometime? You don’t have my cell…” He grabbed his wallet out of his pocket, pulled out a business card, and handed it to me.
“Thanks.” I stared at the card, the numbers blurring in front of my eyes. I hadn’t even known my own father’s cell number until now. I wondered if I should give him my number, if he would call, but he was glancing back toward where my mom had headed. I caught a glimpse of her hair, moving down another aisle.
“I better go,” he said.
I nodded, tried for a smile, but had to stare back down at that card so I didn’t cry at the look of sadness in his face.
“It’s been really hard on her lately with the anniversary coming up,” he said softly. “Maybe try again in a few months.”
It was hard on me too. That summer it had been seventeen years since my sister was murdered, seventeen years since someone stole all our lives, and I knew that my mom wasn’t going to change her mind about anything in a few months. But I was silent as my father walked away. I grabbed Captain a big bone from the meat section and waited until I got home to cry.
*
The night after I saw my parents in the store, I pulled into the marina parking lot after a late shift at the restaurant, Captain on the seat behind me. Mike let Captain hang out with his dog in the backyard of his house, which was across the street from the restaurant. I went over on my breaks and visited him, though I could tell it annoyed Mike’s wife, Patty, who didn’t really like me. I figured it was just because of my past and in time she’d trust me.
I was tired and looking forward to a shower, so I wasn’t paying attention when I parked the truck. I was about to get out when I saw something move behind the Dumpster. I stared at the spot. What the hell? Then I caught a glimpse of a baseball cap. It was Ryan again.
I let Captain out. He ran over to the Dumpster, body tense, hackles up, and a low growl leaking from his throat. I knew he wouldn’t do anything, not unless someone was attacking me, but I called out, “Captain. It’s okay.”
Ryan crouched down and turned his body to the side, not making eye contact as he let Captain sniff him, then he slowly tossed out a couple of dog cookies, which Captain gobbled up. Ryan glanced up at me and said, “He’s a beauty,” then started scratching Captain, who was leaning against him with one of his big pittie smiles, tongue lolling, trying to get more cookies.
I looked around the parking lot, the marina. It was after midnight, no one in sight, but I still wasn’t comfortable talking to Ryan in the open.
“What are you doing here, Ryan?” I was angry, but mostly at my body’s reaction to seeing him. I’d been happy for a moment, excited even, before I remembered that speaking to him could cost me my freedom. He looked good, though, in a faded black denim shirt open over a fitted gray T-shirt, a silver chain at his neck. His baseball cap low, almost hiding his eyes.
“I met with Cathy,” he said. “She’s definitely covering up something. The whole time we were talking she was looking over her shoulder.”
“She was probably afraid you were going to slit her throat and steal all her drugs or something.”
“Funny.” He smiled at my gallows humor. We did always have that in common, the ability to make fun of our fucked-up families and fucked-up lives, but then everything got too fucked up. I hated him for reminding me, hated how much I wanted to smile back, wanted to make him laugh deep from his gut, like when we were kids and he’d throw his head back, one hand over his heart, his whole body getting into it. That was one of the things I’d loved about him, how physical he was, how loose and relaxed and easy he was with his body.
He took a step forward now, leaned against the side of the Dumpster, rubbed at his unshaven chin. His shirt rode up a bit, showing a black belt through his jeans, his waist still slim. I remembered wrapping my arms around him, the feel of my hands tucked into his back jeans pockets, him lifting his shirt up so our bare stomachs could touch. My face flushed and I stared down at Captain.
“It was more than that,” he said. “Every time I mentioned Shauna, that’s when she got nervous.”
I didn’t want to get pulled into this, didn’t want to know anything more about their lives now. Three of them still lived in town. That’s all I needed to know. But, despite myself, I said, “Are they still friends?”
“Not sure what you’d call it. Sounds like Shauna goes over sometimes and cleans up Cathy’s house—tries to get her to clean up too. Brings food, toys to the mother’s house for the kids, stuff like that.”
“What is Shauna doing these days? Cathy said she was married.… Is it the same guy?” I hated how much I wanted to hear that she was fat and on her third marriage, preferably miserable.
“Yeah, that older dude. He owns a big trucking company and they have a fancy house, cars, but apparently he’s not around much. Cathy was kind of rambling.”