“Lasagna.” He takes a drink of the bourbon. “Your mother’s favorite.”
“It was. How’d you know?”
He sits beside me, almost falling over. He’s drunk. I’ve never seen him drunk.
“Sonia took me to her favorite place in Little Italy. She said she could eat lasagna every day for the rest of her life.”
“You and my mom went to dinner?” I set my fork down. “When was this?”
“Before you were born,” he says, waving his hand around as he takes another drink. “I was in New York to see Devon perform in an off-Broadway play.” He smiles. “Your mother was in her portrait phase, where all she wanted to do was paint people. She wanted me to pose for her, but I didn’t have time.”
I turn to him, eager to hear more. I didn’t know he knew my mom before I was born. I thought my dad introduced them later.
“Did my dad pose for her?” I ask.
“Probably. He had nothing else to do, other than be in that ridiculous play.”
“Is that when you first met my mom? When you went to see my dad in that play?”
“I’d met her before.” He finishes his drink, then gets up. “I’ll be in my office.”
“Wait!” I follow him down the hall, thinking his drunken state might be my only chance to get the truth out of him.
“What is it?” he asks.
“I need to see my dad. Tell me where he is.”
He frowns. “Rumor, you know where he is.”
“No, I don’t. The rehab place said he left weeks ago. Is he back at his apartment?”
Brock puts his hands on my shoulders and leans down to my face. “Your father is a drunk. A junkie. He’ll go wherever he needs to go to get his fix.”
“Yeah? So how would I know where that is?”
“You don’t. Nobody does.”
“Then why’d you say I know where he is?”
“I was talking in a general sense, as in you know where addicts tend to end up.”
“Where? At shelters? Under a bridge? Are you saying he’s homeless?”
“He could be any of those places. Or . . .”
“Or what?”
He sighs. “Or he could be dead.”
Chapter 18
“Dead?” I shove away from him. “Why would you even say that?”
“It’s a possibility. I didn’t say it was true. But addicts don’t typically have a long lifespan. Every time they overdose could be the end.”
“When’s the last time you talked to him?”
“It’s been weeks.”
