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“Kids. Can’t live with them, can’t chain ’em up in the basement.” Richard wore boat shoes without socks, and extended a hand that was softer than you’d expect from a guy in construction. “Want a drink?”
He started inside without waiting for an answer. Da
“Bad run?”
“I’m taking a bath. I got in on these sure-thing tech stocks? I may as well have just gone to Arlington, put Tommy’s college fund on the ponies.” He stepped to an antique bar and poured single-malt into Waterford glasses.
Da
Richard considered himself a self-made man, claiming he’d turned “a trailer, a toolbox, and a tower of bills” into a company employing nearly forty men. When he told the story – which was often – he always skimped on the details of how he’d accomplished it. The reason was simple: He hadn’t. Richard had inherited the company, and before he adopted Da
It’d taken less than two years for Da
Still, it involved a lot of stupid errands like this one. Saturday afternoon, and he had to endure twenty minutes of babble about the post-Internet market and the dangers of IPOs before Richard finally asked about the bids Da
“Right here.” He took the documents from his satchel. “I pulled them together last night.”
“Heya, you shouldn’t be working Friday nights.”
Considering the opportunity had surprised them yesterday morning and that the deadline was this afternoon, Da
Richard smiled. “Attaboy. Full service.” He glanced at the documents, nodded, and scribbled his name with a gold pen he took from his pocket. “I’m going for lunch at the club. You like, you can tag along.”
“Got plans.”
His boss nodded absently, the offer already forgotten. They chatted for another few minutes, and then Richard made a show of looking at his watch. Grateful for the dismissal, Da
The afternoon had turned out gorgeous, leaves glowing on the trees, sunlight warm on their shoulders. The Lincoln Park Zoo was mobbed, but neither of them minded. They joined the crowd, watching the sea li ons circle endlessly; laughing at the flamingos’ awkward poses; feeling a delighted shiver as a lion used its rough tongue to scrape chunks of meat from a bone the size of a ca
When they were finished, he got up to throw the wadded plastic bag in the trash. On his way back he had one of those flashes when he saw her, really saw her. Not through the myopic eyes of habit and time, but as a real person, self-possessed and smiling. How had he gotten so lucky? Not only to get out, but to do it with a woman who knew his past yet was willing to bet on their future. He sat down, then spun and laid his head in her lap. She stroked his hair while the sky burned blue and the wind tossed autumn branches in kaleidoscope patterns.
“Happy.” He sighed. “Very happy.”
She snorted. “You better be. You want me to peel you a grape?”
He laughed and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of rattling leaves and the joyful burble of Saturday people. Then something collided with their bench. Da
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said, in the tone that meant it wasn’t nothing.
“Really, what?”
“You ever think about having one of those?”
“A little black boy?”
She laughed and bobbled his head with her knee. “I’m serious.”
“Really?” He could hear the surprise in his own voice. “A kid?”
She looked away, then back. “No pressure.”
“No, I just…” In truth, he hadn’t much thought about it. “I don’t know. It’s scary.” He had a flash of Dad’s pained expression as he stared around the visiting room of Cook County Correctional. That had been hard. But how much harder to endure the same bafflement and hurt on the face of a son? He’d long ago sworn never to have a kid so long as he lived the life.
But then, he didn’t anymore. It was a fact that continued to surprise and please him, like discovering a wad of cash in the pocket of a coat he rarely wore. He’d been straight for years, with a job, a home, and a relationship to prove it. Though he and Karen had never done the wedding thing, it was only because the ritual meant nothing to them. He didn’t need a ring to be faithful. And they both brought in solid money – far more than he had been able to count on hustling.
Maybe in this new world he could be a father. Maybe such a thing was possible. If Da
“What would we name him?”
She laughed. “You mean her.” And bent down to press her soft lips to his, under skies blowing wild as the hope in his heart.
7
It took Da
He walked two blocks to a copy and shipping place. The air-conditioning inside felt stale. Two bucks in quarters and ten minutes worth of forms later, he was finally done with work. The girl who checked him out asked if he wanted anything else.
“Just a beer,” he said, and smiled.
She smiled back, a flirtatious look Da
Evan stood in front of him.
Da