I perk up, my fingers calming, palms flattening on my thighs. “What does that mean?”
“I filed a patent last month that seems to be creating quite a lot of interest.”
I blink and blink again, stunned that his hermit status has equaled obvious productivity, though I don’t know why. He’s a brilliant man who’s been living for his work. “That’s incredible, Dad. I mean, really, really incredible. What is it?”
He reaches in his pocket and produces what looks like a fuse of some sort. “This little baby will charge up with solar energy and then provide power for a fifteen-hundred-square-foot house for twelve hours. The fuses fit into a charging box that I created, with a solar panel on the side. As one fuse turns off and begins to recharge, the next turns on. I make the entire box and fuses for two hundred dollars.”
“How big is the box?”
“Twelve by twelve. A ten-thousand-square-foot house would need only seven, which eliminates the need for the large eyesores that are the current panels.”
“That’s incredible, Dad. I mean, wow. It seems as if it’s life changing—world changing, even. How long have you been working on it?”
“Five years, but since my incident in New York, I’ve done less outside the house and focused more on my work. It’s ready now. The problem is that there’s a lot of people in power who do not want something this cost effective in the market. If I don’t tread carefully, someone will buy my patent simply to bury my work.”
“How do you prevent that from happening?”
“I need an attorney, a good one, that can’t be bought off by the same powers that be that would bury my work. I don’t know who that might be.”
“Jess might,” I suggest. “She’s got money and people helping her manage it. I’m seeing her Friday, so I’ll ask. What does Mom say?”
His jaw transforms from that soft, relaxed state to solid steel. “Mom doesn’t know.”
My brows dive. “What? Why?”
“I don’t want to disappoint her again. Once I have a check in my hand, it’s real. Until then, I could die aLion’s Dendeath again.”
In that moment I’m immensely relieved that I didn’t tell him about my failed presentation and foolish performance. The last thing I want to do is convince him such bad luck is an inherited family trait. I’m a grown adult now, and as a daughter, my role is to become a mature person who doesn’t need to be coddled, who now is strong enough to offer my father a ladder when he needs one. But not a crutch. That’s where I had my role twisted and broken.
“That’s not going to happen,” I state. “And we both agree things happen for a reason, anyway. Maybe you were supposed to focus on this project, this happy ending.”
His lips hint at an attempted smile. “Always my happy-ending girl. And yes. Perhaps it is, but it’s not the happy ending I expected.”
“Sometimes those are the best kind,” I say, but in the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder if he believes Mom is cheating. If he plans to leave her, or her him, and he knows. My gut tells me not to ask, not now, and I don’t know why.
“This would certainly showLion’s Denhow wrong they were to pass you by, Dad.”
His response isn’t immediate, but slowly his lips pull and flatten, and the flatness in his eyes burns with something I can’t quite name. “Yes. Yes, it will.”
In that moment I wonder if I’ve been wrong about my father, lost in my own world, unable to fully view his. I wonder if instead of being depressed, he’s been angry, and anger has transformed him in a way I do not quite understand. Nevertheless, if it leads him to a place where he shines, putting on a production, he’s using that anger smartly. Theidea pleases me, but there is a scratching at my mind as well that is uncomfortably present the rest of the evening with my father.
Later, much later, when the storm has passed, the night is lighter, and I step outside to the front porch, leaving my father in his man cave, lost in work. I walk toward my Uber that awaits on the other side of the gate, noting that the willow tree is no longer dancing with shadows, but rather in leafy slumber.
Once I’m in the back of the car, my new driver, an older man who appears to prefer the radio in the off position, barely greets me, which is fine by me on all counts. The noise in my head is quite enough.
Not only is my father excluding my mother from his great news, but he’s not traveling with her. I wonder if he believes she’s cheating. My mother underestimates him. His brilliance is not just evident in a lab. He sees things. He understands things. He observes and learns.
He was also different tonight. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. For the first time in my life, I think my father has secrets.
Chapter Twenty-One
I arrive home to the blast of hip-hop from the bookstore, a familiar problem when Ben, the cleaning guy, spends half the night destroying my sleep. I’ve fought with him. I’ve complained with the owners of the building, but they argue he’s affordable, just like my rent, which they claim to be well below the citywide average.
Pausing at the bottom of the stairs leading to my loft, I am torn between the two choices of arguing with Ben or just heading on upstairs. Of course, today has gone about as well as me in high heels walking down a street, complete with ankle twists and face flops. Ben is my age, decent looking, but not a decent guy at all. The last time I confronted Ben, he stood there, in his overalls, a dip in his mouth, cowboy hat on his head, and told me my ploy to date him by being a bitch wasn’t working.
I decide heading on upstairs is the smart move.
But then again, today I am not invisible. Maybe he will hear me when I complain this time.
