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“Daaaaad!” I hear from downstairs. I smile before throwing on some sweats and a tee shirt and head down to greet Bianca.
“What are you doing here, pumpkin?” I ask her back as she rummages through my fridge, knowing she’s going to be sorely disappointed by what she finds in there.
“Where’s all the food?” She grabs a beer and closes the fridge before taking a seat at the kitchen table. I snag my own beer before joining her.
“When do I have time to do shopping? I just ran through a drive-thru on my way home today.”
She shoots me a frown. “That stuff isn’t good for you, Dad. You need to take better care of yourself. You’re getting up there.”
It’s nice to know I’ll always have my daughter to make me feel old. “Hey, I’m not even forty yet. Besides, I ate a salad earlier this week.” Bianca just stares at me without saying a word in a silent challenge. “Okay, fine, it was macaroni salad and it came as a side to the corn beef on rye I was eating. Are you here for a reason or just to bust my chops and make me feel old?”
“I just really wanted to thank you for letting me have the party here. I know it’s not how you’d like to spend an evening but it means a lot to me.” That’s where she’s wrong. I’m happy to spend any time I can get with my daughter. From the day she was born, Bianca’s been the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I kept waiting for her to go through that phase where she doesn’t want me around anymore, that old dad would cramp her style, but that just never seemed to happen. Sure, she does most things with her friends and coworkers but she never hesitates to spend time with me or invite me to something that she’s going to be doing. From the horror stories I hear from some of my friends with teenagers, I consider myself very lucky.
“You know I would do anything for you, pumpkin. But just know that you’re going to have to do the cleanup. There’s no way I’m cleaning this house by myself after fifty of your friends have been running through here.”
She picks at the label on her beer bottle. “No problem. Hollie and Violet already said that they would help with the setup and cleanup. Plus, you said that Violet was going to help you get the food?” I just nod my head, keeping my eyes locked on the bottle in front of me. I’m afraid that if I look her in the eyes she’ll somehow be able to get a glimpse of how I feel about her best friend. And I’m worried that they are starting to develop into true feelings now after spending time with her alone. I thought my crush was bad before but it’s nothing compared to the thoughts that have been rattling around in my brain the past few days. I’m an old fool. “Just make sure that Violet doesn’t bake anything, okay?”
“What?” My head jerks up and I look at my daughter who is giving me a nervous smile.
“You know I love Violet, she’s my best friend.” I nod my head so she continues, “It’s just that she loves to bake. I mean, she like really loves it.”
“Okay, so what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that she’s terrible at it. Horrible.”
I give her a reproachful look. “That’s not a very nice thing to say about your best friend.”
“You’re right but it’s true. Even she knows how bad she is at it. You want to know how great of a friend I am? I still try anything she asks me to, it just usually ends up in the trash can instead of my stomach. I’m telling you, Dad, just promise me you won’t let her bake a cake or something. The last thing I want to do is send my friends home with food poisoning.”
I roll my eyes at my daughter. There’s no way that Violet’s baking is that bad. Of course, I’ve never tried it myself but how hard can it be to follow a recipe? “Okay,” I say, humoring her. “I promise I won’t let her bake anything. I’ll also be sure to make myself scarce during the party so you can have fun with your friends.”
Her expression turns a little more guarded now and I wonder what she’s up to. “Actually,” she says, “I was thinking about inviting Mom if that’s okay with you. Then maybe you two could hang out together and you’ll have someone to talk to.”
I suppress the groan that wants to escape my lips. Hanging out with Amanda in the middle of a party is not my idea of a good time. In fact, I would absolutely rather be holed up in my bedroom reading a book or watching something on the TV.
“Of course you can invite your mom, honey. It’s your party, but I doubt that the two of us will spend much time together. Honestly, we haven’t had anything in common for years now. Nothing except you of course.”
“Well, you guys hardly ever talk. Maybe you have more in common than you think. And since she’s planning on moving here, maybe it would be good to get on more friendly terms with her, you know, so the three of us can hang out together sometimes.”
I shake my head before she even finishes her sentence. “You’re the only twenty-three-year-old that I know who enjoys spending time with your parents. Is there something wrong with you?” I ask in jest.
She just laughs. “What can I say, I’ve got two pretty cool parents.”
“Can I get that in writing somewhere? Someday I’m going to have to convince you I’m cool and I want the written proof.”
“Whatever, Dad, you can be such a weirdo.”
“Ah, that feels better. I’ve lost my cool badge already and I’m back to weirdo.” She just rolls her eyes at me and continues drinking her beer.
Not too long later Bianca takes off, leaving me alone in my big empty house. I’ve never really felt lonely before. I was always working, first as a foreman for someone else and then tirelessly building my own business from scratch. When I wasn’t working, I was spending as much time with Bianca as I could since I didn’t get to see her every day like her mother did. Now this place feels too big for just me. Not for the first time in the past year, I wonder what it would feel like to share it with someone. Have them waiting for me, book in hand, in our bed. Happy to see me home. Maybe we could actually cook something together instead of constantly getting takeout, that seems like it would make my daughter happy.
I would be lying if I said that thesomeoneI’m picturing in my bed and in my house, making it feel like a home, wasn’t Violet.
SEVEN
Violet
“Do you have the Kamber Street file?”
