Chapter 58
Fort Worth is only three and a half hours south of here, maybe less as fast as I’m driving. It’s a gray, cloudy day, but that’s all right. Anytime you’re on the highway cruising at eighty miles an hour, far away from school and work and parents, you can’t help but feel high and free. Also, I admit I’m excited about finally seeing the old man after all these years. Aimee’s probably twice as stoked as I am, even though we’re missing graduation.
I didn’t exactly lie about having to meet Dad on graduation weekend. He really did suggest it when we talked on the phone, not that he knew the ceremony was set for Friday night. I’m sure if I told him, he would’ve been glad to change to another date, but what would be the use? It’s not like anyone’s giving me a diploma. Mr. Asterhole came through with his threat, all right. It’s summer school for me.
Apparently, Aimee’s mom wasn’t too happy about the situation, though. I’m not sure exactly how Aimee explained it to her, but the truth is I don’t think her mom’s all that happy about me in general. The whole bad influence thing. But that’s okay. I wouldn’t expect anything else from a woman whose control over her daughter is slipping away. And that’s just what’s happening. Now that Aimee has some experience in standing up for herself, she’s turning into a real pro at it. Of course, a couple of slugs of vodka always help.
As for my mom, I simply told her the grand festivities weren’t until next week, and she never bothered to check into it. There will be plenty of time to explain the summer school situation later. I also didn’t tell her anything about going to see Dad, and I asked Holly not to mention it to her either. I don’t need Mom slamming me with some lecture on his evil ways and how I’m likely to get infected with them just by talking to him.
I do hate it that Aimee’s missing her graduation, though. She worked hard for a long time to get that diploma, but, really, what does a ceremony have to do with anything? Does she really need to parade across a stage along with a line of people who never even really knew her? Besides, it would only spoil things more for her if she knew I wasn’t graduating.
We have the music cranked and the scenery’s flying by—the low-slung clouds, the pastures, the Arbuckle Mountains of southern Oklahoma. Aimee breaks out some snacks and drinks. Nothing alcoholic. Sure, we might have a shot or two right before meeting Dad, but that’s all.
“Are you nervous about seeing him?” she asks, and I’m like, “I guess it is going to be weird to see him, but you know my policy on that.”
“You embrace the weird?”
“One hundred percent.”
“I’ll bet this is going to make your dad’s year,” she says, pointing the open end of a sack of Bugles my way.
I grab a handful and go, “He sounded pretty pumped on the phone. That’s the way he always was—gung ho about life. I remember one time going with him to the grocery store and he backed into a car in the parking lot. He didn’t get upset in the least. Instead, he treated it like an opportunity to make friends, went into the store, had the owner of the car called up to the front, gave her his insurance info, and next thing you know, they’re just gabbing away and laughing. You would’ve thought he just handed her a check for winning the lottery instead of hitting her car.”
“I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Hey, he can’t wait to meet you too.”
Okay, maybe I didn’t mention her to Dad on the phone, but you have enough on your mind talking to your long-lost dad after ten years—you can’t remember every last detail to mention.
Actually, the call went very well. At first, he sounded confused about who I was—kind of like he thought I should still be a little kid instead of an eighteen-year-old, adult-type person—but once he got used to that idea, we had a really good talk, a bit awkward but in a positive way.
He asked about Mom and Holly and never had a bad word to say about either of them. He even remembered that I used to play Little League Baseball and wanted to know if I kept up with it. I had to admit I quit playing in junior high to pursue other interests, but it was great that he remembered what a good fielder I used to be, even when I was really small.
He never said what kind of job he was doing or why he ended up in Fort Worth, but he seemed to be enjoying himself down there. Still liked to go to baseball games. Still hadn’t married again. Still told jokes, although now when he laughed, he had a tendency to break into a coughing fit. I didn’t ask him for the truth about what happened between him and Mom. There would be plenty of time for that in Fort Worth.
It’s close to dinnertime when Aimee and I finally hit Fort Worth, and after a few wrong turns we finally locate Dad’s duplex. It’s not ancient or anything—maybe about ten years old—but has a flimsy look, like something that wouldn’t stand up all that well against a high Texas wind. The grass could use a good mowing and the shrubs are scraggly, but so what? Dad probably has a lot better things to do than hanging around the front yard landscaping all the time.
“I think I need that shot of vodka now,” says Aimee, and I’m like, “Pass me the whisky, Doctor.”
We take our shots followed by a couple more, then follow those with shots of mouthwash. “Okay,” I say. “It’s now or never.”
At the front door, I ring the bell two or three times but no one comes. Figuring it must be broken, I try knocking, and still no one comes until I’ve knocked maybe five times. The door opens and it’s Dad, only a smaller version than I remember. He’s not much taller than I am, and his ruffled hair’s flecked with gray and in need of a cut. His blue jeans are faded, and he’s wearing a kind of Hawaiian shirt, except instead of flowers it has tumbling dice on the front. He’s still handsome but in a worn, creased way.