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“Phones are the mark of the beast,” he mumbles. “They’re tracking and tracing you, you know. Everywhere you go. Everything you do. They know about it. They’re listening, just so they can sell you more stuff you don’t need. And they cause cancer.”
“Right.” I glance down at Naomi. Her face is impassible. “Well, how about”—I shift Blair to my other hip and then force a ten-dollar bill in his direction—“just a little money so you can buy something to eat.”
His hand shakes as he takes the money from my hand.
“Maybe you could let me know where you’re going to be, and when, so I can get you some more. I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t carry much cash.”
He stuffs the bill in his pocket and lowers to the ground. “And who’s this?” he asks, peering up at me. “Who are these children?”
“That’s Naomi, Daddy. You remember. And this is Blair.”
“Okay.” He pushes himself up to a standing position. “But why are they with you?”
“They’re my daughters—your grandchildren.”
“Good for you,” he says. “I never had any children.”
He mumbles something inaudible before taking off with his cart in the opposite direction. A few feet in, he stops, turns back and shakes his head. “Thunder only happens when it’s raining.”
“What’s Grandpa talking about?” Blair sniffles. I set her on her feet, and she looks up at the sky. “Is it going to rain?”
“It’s a song, love. From the past. When I was a little girl.”
“Do you know it?”
“Not anymore.”
She slips her hand in mine. “I think it’s like a puzzle, Mama. He probably wants us to figure it out.”
“Yeah,” I say, dropping her hand in order to press the button for the crosswalk. “I think you’re right.” Tears fill my eyes. “But some things are just mysteries.”
As we cross the street and make our way over to where our car is parked, I glance back over my shoulder several times. It strikes me that I don’t know when and if I’ll ever see my father again. It’s suffocating to think this may be the last time. And yet, I know I’ll never stop searching every face on every corner. It’s a habit that’s hard to break. It’s hard to shut something off when it’s been a part of your life for so long.
I often lay awake at night wondering if my father would know to tell them to call me if he landed in the hospital. Now, after this encounter, I know there will be many more sleepless nights. I am less sure than I’ve ever been.
On the ride home, Naomi is quiet. She often does this, retreats inward. She is like her father; she goes deep inside to process. Blair, however, chatters incessantly, firing off more questions than I can keep up with. “Why does Grandpa stink?”
“He’s homeless.”
“Why is he homeless?”
I don’t know how to answer that question. “Because he likes it that way” doesn’t seem like the kind of answer she’s ready for. So I force a smile and glance in the rearview mirror. “Not everyone is as fortunate as we are.”
“Are those guys going to hurt Grandpa?”
“I don’t think so, honey. They were just playing a game.”
“That’s a mean game.”
“Yes,” I say, bile rising in my throat. I think about those lowlifes, taking what little my father has, and anger bubbles to the surface. At the first stoplight I come to, I let it topple over. Typing out a text to Alex, I write, Make it happen. I can pay.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The plan had begun to go wrong right from the start. The way he saw it, it was a terribly unfortunate situation. Everywhere you turned there was something interesting to look at. The lights. The sirens. The police. It was off-putting, and attention drawing, and he could not look away. The poor little girls.
They were seated on the curb, tired, with weary faces, and if one looked hard enough, they could see there had been tears. The mother looked panicked. Grief-stricken. And wide awake.
He didn’t know exactly what had happened, although he could guess. Something terrible and unexpected. It brought him slight relief as he counted them out. One father, one mother, and two little girls. All upset, but safe.
