Page 117 of Life and Death
“No worries, Beau. I’ll make myself a sandwich.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled again.
Charlie banged around the kitchen getting what he needed. I worked on eating my giant plate of food as fast as was humanly possible while not choking to death. I was thinking about what Edythe had just said—Do you want your father to know that I’m here?Which was not the same asDo you want your father to know that Iwashere?in the past tense. So did that mean she hadn’t actually left? I hoped so.
Sandwich in hand, Charlie sat in the chair across from me. It was hard to imagine Edythe sitting in the same place just minutes ago. Charlie fit. The memory of her was like a dream that couldn’t possibly have been real.
“How was your day? Did you get everything done that you wanted to?”
“Um, not really. It was . . . too nice out to stay indoors. Were the fish biting?”
“Yep. They like the good weather, too.”
I scraped the last of the lasagna into one huge mouthful and started chewing.
“Got plans for tonight?” he asked suddenly.
I shook my head, maybe a little too emphatically.
“You look kinda keyed up,” he noted.
Of course he would have to pay attention tonight.
I swallowed. “Really?”
“It’s Saturday,” he mused.
I didn’t respond.
“I guess you’re missing that dance tonight. . . .”
“As intended,” I said.
He nodded. “Sure, dancing, I get it. But maybe next week—you could take that Newton girl out for dinner or something. Get out of the house. Socialize.”
“I told you, she’s dating my friend.”
He frowned. “Well, there’re lots of other fish in the sea.”
“Not at the rate you’re going.”
He laughed. “I do my best. . . . So you’re not going out tonight?” he asked again.
“Nowhere to go,” I told him. “Besides, I’m tired. I’m just going to go to bed early again.”
I got up and took my plate to the sink.
“Uh-huh,” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “None of the girls in town are your type, eh?”
I shrugged as I scrubbed the plate.
I could feel him staring at me, and I tried really hard to keep the blood out of my neck. I wasn’t sure I was succeeding.
“Don’t be too hard on a small town,” he said. “I know we don’t have the variety of a big city—”
“There’s plenty of variety, Dad. Don’t worry about me.”
“Okay, okay. None of my business anyway.” He sounded kind of dejected.
