“Hey yourself,” Gran says.“You told me that fan belt was fine.”But she lets me kiss her cheek.
I grab a couple of beers and head outside.Dad’s sitting on an old box Gran likes to keep oranges in.He looks a lot like me.Or, I guess I look a lot like him.Dark hair.Thin.I guess Detective Dulac is right, though, because Ihaveput on some weight, and it’s weird that I’m bigger than Dad now.Working out.Eating right.Plus Gran keeps these giant ice cream sandwiches in her freezer.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with it,” Dad says as he takes the beer.“I don’t know why she won’t get rid of it.”
I pull over another box and sit.There’s this part of me that’s—that’s checking, I guess.Like there might be something on me.Something that gives me away.And it’s like I’m watching myself watch myself, and that part of me is thinking,You went to their house.You talked to a couple of people you know.It’s not like he canseeanything.
But sometimes it’s like we really are the same person and he can read my mind, because he asks, “Where’ve you been?Your gran said you were supposed to be home an hour ago.”
“Went to see some friends.”
Dad takes a drink.
Does it mean something, that he didn’t say anything?Does he know?But how could he?He doesn’t live here.He lives in Iberia, and that’s far enough away.He doesn’t have any friends here.That’s the whole reason Gran moved here, so she could get away from everybody in Iberia.But he still hasn’t said anything.If you’re a police officer long enough, you learn something kind of surprising: a lot of people really do have a conscience, and when they do something bad, they feel guilty, and eventually, they give themselves away or they confess or they do something because theywantto get caught.And I wonder if I’m doing that right now.
“How’s the garage?”I ask and then, too fast, I take a drink of my beer.I almost cough getting it down.
Dad shrugs.“What kind of friends?”
“Just friends.”
He turns the bottle like he’s looking into it.“A girl?”
The day’s got this heavy kind of stillness that has nothing to do with spring, and I wonder if maybe a storm is coming.
“Nah.”
Dad looks at me.
Somehow, I laugh.“It’s not a girl.Just some friends.”
But Dad’s gaze narrows.Dad says you can’t bullshit a bullshitter, and that’s true, and that’s what I’m doing right now, trying to bullshit a bullshitter.That little part of me that’s watching the rest of me adds, And tripping over your own dick in the process.
“You’re too young,” Dad says.
“God, Dad.”
“You are.You go out, Sam.Have fun.And yeah, I know what that means for a guy your age.But you don’t get serious.”
“I know.”
“And you sure as hell don’t get her pregnant.”
“I know, Dad.”
He takes another sip of his beer.
“I’m not in a rush,” I say with another laugh.“I’m fine the way things are.”
“You got your whole life ahead of you.You got the whole rest of your life to be tied down.”
“I know.That’s why I’m having fun.”
“You start letting things get serious, the first thing she’s going to do is dump a kid in your lap to make sure you don’t go running off.”
“Okay,” I say.
“And then you’re stuck, get it?”
