She winks at me. ‘Hopefully all three! But I’ll be done by ten or so, if you want to meet up later?’
‘That’s bedtime for me, babe. How about we just call it a night, and do brunch tomorrow?’
She nods, and we both know the dance is over for now. We’ve been on our own for too long, clinging to each other like life rafts after Sandy died five years ago. We’ve navigated high school, college, my injury. We’ve helped each other through it all – but now it’s time to let her go. It’s time to let her shine. I need to fly home to Chicago, and she needs to spread her wings without me getting in the way.
‘Okay, Dad. How about that place in the covered market? Say, around noon?’
I agree, and we stroll out into another perfect English evening. We flew to the UK a week ago, landing early to see London together, caught for days in the kind of rain that makes you say things like ‘we’re going to need a bigger boat’. But sincewe arrived in Oxford, there’s been nothing but sunshine and bright skies – like it was laying out the red carpet for my baby girl.
We walk through the green square that I now know is called a quadrangle, surrounded on all sides by ivy-covered buildings, towards the Porters’ Lodge. It’s quaint and cute and pretty, like everything else here. There’s a huge wooden door – wide open and useless – and the porter is the guy who sits behind a little glass hatch and allegedly keeps an eye on things. He’s maybe a hundred years old and looks like he’s welded to his chair. Frankly I’d have preferred a Navy SEAL. It’s not a world class level of security, and it makes all my spider senses tingle. Will she be safe here? It seems quiet and polite on the surface, but you get psychos everywhere. Or maybe that’s just my world-weary take on things – I see things through a different lens.
I watch a young man walking through with a backpack, the porter not even asking for ID. Does he belong here? What’s in the backpack? Why does he seem so nervous? Does he have a gun, or is he just heading to a test? There are potential threats everywhere – even a quick look around reveals open windows, bicycles without locks, young people paying no attention to their personal security. What kind of a place is this? A crazy place, that’s what. A crazy place where my daughter now lives. Panic starts to rise up inside me.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she says, laughing. Reading my mind, as usual. ‘Don’t go all SWAT on me – this isn’t Chicago, Dad! And yes, I’ll watch my drinks to make sure they don’t get spiked, and yes, I have my attack alarm, and yes, I remember everything you ever taught me. A punch to the throat and scream my head off.’
I find a smile for her. Shannon was raised to be able to protect herself, and I know she can. But the truth is that no matter how tough she is, or how many tricks I showed her, she’s still only a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet. She’svulnerable in ways that mess with my mind. How can I protect her when she’s thousands of miles away? Protecting her and her mom was the most important job I ever had, and I already failed on one count.
‘But run if you can, Shannon. Always run if you can. And stick with your friends, don’t end up alone if you can avoid it. And?—’
‘Always make sure my phone is charged, and to have emergency cash. Yeah. I know, Dad. I’ll be okay. I promise.’
I don’t want to leave her, even for one night, never mind the rest of the year. I want to lock her in the basement back home and keep her safe. But I lean down, and kiss her forehead, hiding it all inside where it belongs. Where it can’t poison her pleasure at being here. ‘Yeah, you will. See you tomorrow, sweetpea. Have fun at the college bar.’
She gives me a quick hug, and then drops her leather satchel to the ground. ‘Before you go, I have something for you. I found it in a little bookstore while you were watching the soccer in the pub.’
‘That kind of sums us up, doesn’t it?’ I say, as she produces a paper-wrapped package.
‘Yeah. I’m the precious intellectual diva, and you’re an under-developed Neanderthal who looks like a bear. Except neither of those things is totally true. I can kick ass, and you cried at the ending ofRomeo and Julietwhen we saw it at the Navy Pier that time.’
‘I thought we agreed never to speak of that again, Shannon? Anyway, I had something in my eye.’
‘Both of them?’
I glare at her in a way I know will make her smile, and pretend to be annoyed. I’m not annoyed. I just don’t want to start crying again.
‘Here, tough guy,’ she says, handing me the parcel. ‘I thought you’d like it. I was in the bookstore and the minute I saw it, Ijust knew it was for you. It kind of called to me. Open it over a Guinness.’
I take the package, thank her, and give her one more kiss. I walk away, leaving her in the ivy-coated quadrangle chatting to the useless porter. I make my way along the busy roads, dodging kamikaze cyclists and herds of tourists. Everything hurts, my back, my heart, even my goddamn brain feels like it’s swelling inside my skull. The further I get from her brightness, the more grey I feel.This is not healthy, I tell myself.For her, or for you. Stop being a loser, and get on with your own life.
I follow the crowds to the High Street, then cut through to a pub we visited the day before. I need to decompress before I head back to the hotel for another sleepless night. Ten might be my bedtime, but I rarely make it a few hours without waking up in pain. Once I’m awake, my mind takes over, and my mind is a ruthless bastard. Yet another thing I hide from her, the insomnia.
I find a corner table in the pub, retreat with my pint of Guinness. It’s a tiny place, ceilings so low I have to duck every time I stand. The whole place is covered in collections of neckties, all displayed in glass cases. They’re from colleges, clubs, all kinds of places – it’s an interesting thing, and you never get bored in here. I wonder if I should send them one from Chicago PD to add to the mix.
I check my phone, see on the tracking app that Shannon is still at her college. It’s not as creepy as it sounds, we both have them, and I suspect she uses hers as much as I use mine. Right that second, a message lands from her:
The Bear again Dad? Try somewhere new why don’t you?
I smile and send her a photo of my Guinness. Maybe it’ll put her mind at rest that I’m out and at least attempting to enjoy myself, and maybe that will mean she’ll have more fun tonight. With the boys, and the drink, and the rock and roll music, and the boys…
I realise I’m growling out loud, and snap myself out of it. She’s twenty-two. She’s gorgeous. There will be boys, and they will be very different to me and to most of the men I know – my police buddies, my brothers and cousins. Maybe these new boys will suck at plumbing or repairing fenders, but they’ll be better with emotions. With discussing theirfeelings. That might make me cringe, but I know it’s a good thing – you can pay a guy to fix the shower, but you can’t pay a guy to understand you.
A group of students walk in through the tiny door to the pub, filling the room with their laughter. They look impossibly carefree, and that’s what I want for Shannon. That’s what I hope she looks like right now.
She was supposed to be starting here last fall, but kept finding reasons to delay. She’d won a scholarship, but stayed at home doing distance learning for the first months instead of making the jump across the pond. That was partly because of me, I know. She was worried about me once I lost my job, worried about how I’d cope without the work that defined me as much as being a husband and father did. And also maybe because Chicago was all she’d ever known, the place where the memories of her mom lived. Leaving all that behind took courage, and now she’s here, I need her to be happy. I need her to thrive. She deserves it.
One of the students nudges my table, and my Guinness spills a little. He looks at me, and shrivels in fear as he apologises. I have that effect on people, especially in a place like this. I still have my cop face, and I’m a big man. Truthfully, I hate violence, I’ve seen too much of it – but I know how I look.
‘That’s okay, pal,’ I reassure him. ‘No harm done.’
