Page 70 of Twice
“Dad. Listen.” I lowered my voice. “I want to say how much I love you. And if anyone didn’t do a good job, it was me. I didn’t appreciate all you had to go through. I’m sorry. For everything.”
His eyes were tearing up.
“I don’t understand,” he said shakily. “What’s happening here?”
I forced a smile. “Nothing that will matter.”
I pulled him close. His cheek rubbed against mine.
“Twice,” I whispered.
Instantly, we were back at the golf course parking lot, getting into the car. I turned the ignition and flipped on the radio. A few minutes later, we were cruising past Burt’s.
“Remember that old place?” my father said, pointing.
“Yeah. They served root beer.”
“And terrible hot dogs.”
“Yeah. Awful hot dogs.”
My hands gripped the steering wheel.
“You played good today, Alfie,” my father said.
“You did, too.”
“For an old man, you mean?”
“Yeah. For an old man.”
He chuckled. I was so grateful for his smile, I nearly cried.
?
I tell you that story, Boss, because it was the last time I redid anything in my life—until yesterday. And yesterday couldn’t be helped. I’d been staying away from my gift deliberately, kind of like an addict who swears off his poison. Life has been different in the present tense, I’ll admit that. You pay closer attention to things. You’re more appreciative. More accepting.
But it wasn’t losing my father that led to this decision.
It was another woman.
Nassau
“Well, OK,” LaPorta mumbled, thumbing the page. “We’re finally talking about yesterday.”
“What’s that?” Sampson said.
“This story.”
“I thought you said it was garbage.”
“It is, I guess. I don’t know. I think I’m getting to the part where he confesses.”
“Well, do you want to read or do you want to do your job?”
“What do you mean?”
Sampson killed the engine.
