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He shook his head. "Whoa. She's not my girlfriend. We're just friends."
"Oh?" Kim said hopefully.
Tony just smiled. He was intrigued by the woman sitting across from him. From the first night he had seen her he had been aware of the intense personal strength that seemed to radiate from within her. He knew that it couldn't have been easy to come back to Michigan to help care for a father whom she hadn't spoken with in years. Yet the minute her father had needed her she had flown to his side, not sure of where she would stay or if she would even succeed in arriving in Michigan before he died.
Kim raised her hand as she sneezed.
"God bless you," he said.
"Excuse me," she said, blinking her eyes. "Allergies."
"It's this hospital air. You should get outside. Get some fresh air. You've been spending all your time in that stuffy waiting room."
"I don't know. I just can't get used to this weather. I'll freeze to death in about a minute."
"Only if you stand still. You have to keep active to stay warm." He paused. "Hey, I have an idea," he said, leaning back slightly as he stared into Kim's eyes. "I like to skate… it's my exercise. I do it whenever I have a chance. Why don't you come with me tomorrow?"
"Ice skate?" she asked incredibly.
He nodded.
She emitted a small laugh as she shook her head. "No," she said. "No thanks."
"Are you sure? I leave from the hospital, and I'm only gone for about an hour or so. Then I come right back."
Kim hesitated. "I haven't skated in years."
"C'mon, it's like riding a bike."
"I don't have ice skates."
"You can rent them."
She shrugged. He seemed to have an answer for everything. "All right" It might be worth a few frozen toes just to see him twirl around. "Thanks."
"Okay," he said, standing. "I'll meet you in the lobby at three."
"See you then," Kim said, holding back a smile.
At nine o'clock Kim left the hospital and walked back out to her father's car. Tony's motorcycle was gone, and a red Mercedes was parked in its place. Kim held her breath as she scooted through the tight space left between the two cars.
She turned on the radio, and classical music flooded the car as she drove the short ride home. When she arrived back at her father's house, she walked in the front door and flicked on the light She had so many memories of this house, many of them pleasant. Her parents had rarely fought, and although she was aware of her mother's deep unhappiness with her father, Kim had had a happy childhood. There was summer camp, and birthday parties, ice-skating, skiing, and tennis. Unfortunately, her father had been so busy with work that she had few memories of him.
Kim put her purse down and walked into the kitchen.
The same heavy dark oak cabinets. The same fake brick vinyl floor. She opened up the refrigerator, looking for a bottle of wine. Nothing. Her father obviously still did not drink.
She shook her head. Her poor father—didn't drink, exercised regularly, ate healthy foods, and he's in the hospital with a heart condition.
She wondered if he had even known that he was critically ill before his most recent attack. She guessed not. Her father would have ignored the signs that he was once again having heart troubles, just as he ignored everything else that did not fit into his tightly structured world.
She poured herself a glass of water, made a mental note to pick up a bottle of wine tomorrow, and wandered toward her father's office, otherwise known as the den.
She flicked on the light and peeked inside. Her father's heavy mahogany desk sat in the corner. Kim noticed some pictures on top and walked over. She picked them up and turned them around. They were pictures of her, taken the summer before she left.
Kim set the pictures back down on his desk and sighed. If he had loved her, why hadnt he bothered to try to maintain a relationship with her? How could he cut her off, disown her as he had? Maybe not disown her totally, she reminded herself, remembering the child support payments that her mother had received regularly. But certainly he had cut off contact with her. She had written him letters that he had never bothered responding to.
Kim sat behind his desk and opened up the top drawer. Paper clips, pens, everything neatly arranged. Everything in its place.
