“Good plan. My mom’s not going to give you a hard time. She’s loved you from Day One. Another lost lamb to take into the fold. But my dad . . .”
“Yeah,” Joe said. “That’s another story.”
“You are not going to do that,” Alyssa exploded when Joe told her the plan the next night. He’d taken her to the gym with him after work and bought her a membership, because there were about three things he did: work, go to the gym, and sleep. He couldn’t take her to work with him, but he could take her to the gym with him, and he could take her to bed. And he was planning to do both, just as often as possible.
Now, they were catching a late dinner. Fish tacos, because, she’d informed him, those were her other favorite, besides hamburgers. And at this moment, she was waving her taco at him furiously, cabbage streaming out of it like strands of seaweed.
“I know I said that dating you was like going back to the fifties,” she said. “I didn’t realize I meant the eighteen-fifties. What, you have to ask my dad for my heart and hand?”
“Yeah,” Joe said, “I do.”
“I am an adult,” she said, and the glint in her eyes was pure danger. “I don’t need my father’s permission to date you, and neither do you.”
“I realize that,” he said doggedly. “You’re not a child, and you make your own decisions. That’s not what this is about. It’s about me owing your parents, your dad especially, the courtesy of telling them myself. It’s about respect.”
“This is some weird military thing again,” she sighed.
“Well, kind of. I guess. At least, it’s a dad thing. I’m sure it’s the right thing, anyway, and I’m doing it. I’m not asking for permission to date you, like you can’t give it yourself. I’m letting them know, that’s all.”
“All right. Whatever. When are we going?”
“We’re not,” he said. “I am.”
“You are not going up there and telling them without me.”
“Yeah. I am. I want them to feel free to say whatever they have to say to me,” he tried to explain, “without feeling like they have to . . . limit themselves because you’re there.”
“You think it’s going to be hard to do,” she said slowly. She’d set her taco down, and her face was serious. “There are things you’re going to say that will be hard for you, or you think there could be.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “Probably.”
She nodded. “Which is why I’m going. You can talk to them alone,” she said when he began to protest. “If you need to do some man-to-man thing with my dad, well, I don’t get it, but that’s your business. But I’m going with you. If it’ll be hard for you, I’m going to be there.”
Which is why she was out there in her mother’s kitchen now, helping to make a Saturday lunch that Susie had insisted on their staying for, and he was sitting in her dad’s cubbyhole of a study. He’d talked to her parents alone, as he’d told Alyssa he had to, and he’d done it pretty much the same way he’d told Alec, except that he’d said he was dating Alyssa instead of that he was sleeping with her. Some things, parents didn’t need to hear spelled out.
They’d listened to what he’d had to say, and then Dave had looked at him measuringly and asked, “So you came all the way up here, just to tell us you and Alyssa are involved?”
“Yes, sir,” Joe said.
“Honey.” Dave turned to his wife. “Do you mind giving us a few minutes?”
“Of course.” Susie got up, smiled at Joe, and left the room, and Joe tensed for what would come next. He’d thought he had to tell them, yes. But he hadn’t really thought that Dave would object.
“All right,” Dave said when Susie had closed the door. “What is it that makes you think we wouldn’t be comfortable with the idea of you and Alyssa? Considering some of the relationships she’s had—and those are only the ones we’ve heard about, mind you—what would make you think we wouldn’t be jumping for joy to know that the two of you are seeing each other?”
“I don’t—” Joe began. “I didn’t—” He broke off as the other man sat back, his hands clasped in his lap, and waited.
Not many men could outwait Joe, but Dave Kincaid was one of them. He sat, solid and still as stone, looked at Joe, and waited.
“My past hasn’t been . . . perfect,” Joe finally said. And, when Dave still didn’t say anything, he went on. “I was in foster care, but you know that.”
“Yes,” Dave said. “I remember.”
“My mother was a . . .” Joe looked up at the ceiling and swallowed. “A meth addict. After my dad died, she started dating a guy who was an addict, got addicted herself. She used the rest of her life, heavy, and she died of it, basically. So heredity-wise, I may not be the best bet.”
“Got any addictions yourself?” Dave asked.
“No.”
“Do a lot of drinking? Use any of the other stuff?”
“Not now. And not meth, ever. Hard drugs, no. There was a time, though,” Joe admitted, “when I was smoking weed pretty much every day. Drinking a fair amount, too.”
“How long ago?”
“When I was fifteen, sixteen.”
“Then I think we can safely say that the danger period is over, don’t you? What else? What else did you do?”
“Some fighting,” Joe admitted. “And . . .” He swallowed. “A lot of stealing. I was a thief.”
“Stealing from whom?” Dave asked, still looking calm.
Joe wasn’t, though. Joe was sweating. “Shoplifting.”
“Why?”
“Why? What does it matter why? I wasn’t trying to save a starving child or anything like that. I can’t give you an excuse that’ll make it all right.”
“No,” Dave agreed, “but you can tell me why.”
“Because,” Joe said reluctantly, “I was mad, I guess. Because we’d get these lists.” He didn’t want to remember it, but there it was. “Back-to-school lists, you know the ones. A whole page full of things that I didn’t have, and didn’t have any way to get. Colored pencils, pens, notebooks. P.E. uniforms. You could go into the office and tell them you couldn’t afford the uniform, and they’d give you some old one that somebody had donated. But nobody gave you colored pencils. And nobody gave you new clothes. You remember, last Christmas, when Alyssa and Rae were talking about clothes, about not having the right clothes?”
“Yes,” Dave said. “I remember.”
“Well, it was hard for them that they didn’t have them,” Joe went on, determined to tell the truth for once. “Harder than for a guy. I heard them say that, and I know it’s true. But they dealt with it. They didn’t go out and steal clothes so they’d have something new to wear, so they’d look like everybody else. But that’s what I did. School supplies, clothes, shoes, electronics. Everything. I could have found another way to get what I needed, or I could have gone without it. But I didn’t. If I wanted it, I stole it.”
“Why?” Dave asked again. His posture was still relaxed, his expression unchanged. “When you went into a store, when you took something, how were you feeling when you did it?”
“Mad,” Joe said. “Mad.”
“Because you didn’t have it? You were taking what you should have had?”
“Yeah. Because other kids had it, and I didn’t, and it wasn’t fair.” Joe looked down, tried to laugh, ran a hand over his head. “I don’t know where I got the idea that it should be. Not like anybody ever promised me that life would be fair.”
“It sure wasn’t fair to you.”
“No. But that doesn’t make what I did all right. It isn’t fair to have somebody steal from you, either. That’s the part I missed. At the time.”
Dave nodded. “So what have you done about it?”
“Well . . .” Joe was nonplussed. “Well, I don’t steal anything these days, if that’s what you mean. And I donate some, but you know that.”
“Yes,” Dave said, “I know you do. But what have you done about what you stole? What have you done to make that
right?”
“Uh . . .” Joe was stuck. “Nothing, I guess.”
“Then, if it’s still eating away at you, enough that you have to come and tell me about it before you can date my daughter in good conscience, don’t you think you’d better?”
“Like what?” What more was there that he could do, if giving away as much as he had done hadn’t fixed it?
“Like making a list of everyplace you stole from,” Dave said. “Like walking into every one of those places and handing over a check made out to the charity of their choice for the amount, and telling them why you’re doing it. Like making it right.”
“I wouldn’t even know how much,” Joe said, everything in him cringing at the thought. “I wouldn’t even know every place.”
“Do your best, then. And if you don’t know how much, well, add a zero or two on there, don’t you think? That way you’ll cover your bases.”
“Wow,” Joe said. “I don’t . . . This isn’t what I expected you to say.”
“Yeah.” Dave sighed. “People always expect some easier answer. You’ll hear it said that confession is good for the soul. I’ve found that to be true to a certain extent, but in my experience, it works a whole lot better when it comes with reparation. You came here today, I think, to ask for my advice. You don’t have to take it, but here it is. You did wrong. Do your best to make it right. That’s the only way to let it go.”
“And if I do that,” Joe said, “that’ll make me good enough for Alyssa? That what you’re saying?”
“No. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying, if you do that, that might be a pretty good step towards making yourself good enough for you.”
Joe sat for a few moments, taking that in.
“Something my grandmother used to say to me, when I was a boy.” Dave chuckled a little, remembering. “Because I had a temper, oh, and then some. Had my share of anger, that’s for sure. You ever hear of the two wolves?”
“I don’t think so,” Joe said.
“Cherokee proverb. One of those ones that makes you realize that there’s a lot of common ground between religions, because people are people.” Dave sat still a moment, then recited. ‘There is a battle of two wolves inside us all. One is evil. It is anger, jealousy, greed, resentment, lies, inferiority, and ego. The other is good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, empathy and truth. The wolf that wins? The one you feed.’”
“I guess that’s true,” Joe said, because he had to say something.
“You may have fed your evil wolf for a while there,” Dave said, “but seems to me you’ve been mostly working lately on feeding the good one.”
They sat in silence a bit longer, and Joe was glad that, for once, he could take his time. “I wanted you to know, though,” he said at last, because he had to make this point, because this was the reason he’d come, “that I know my background isn’t what you’d want for your daughter. That I know I don’t come from much, but I promise you, I care about her, and I’ll be trying my best to be good for her.”
“You want to know one thing I’ve learned for sure, after more than thirty-five years in this line of work?” Dave asked.
“Yes, sir,” Joe said, and waited for it.
“Here it is, then. It doesn’t matter where you come from. It only matters where you’re going.”
It took Joe a full minute to recover from that one. He knew he was just sitting there, frowning into his lap, but Dave didn’t push him. Instead, he waited patiently until Joe looked up again.
“Something else, too,” Dave guessed. “It’s serious, with Alyssa, or you wouldn’t be here. And you’re . . . well, I’m guessing you might be a little scared about that, because Alyssa’s not going to settle for half of a relationship, or for half of you.”
Joe blew out a breath and admitted it. “Terrified.” And then, as the older man continued to sit back and look at him, he went on. “I never know what she’s going to do. What she’s going to make me feel.”
Dave smiled. “A little out of your comfort zone?”
That surprised a laugh out of Joe. “I don’t even remember what my comfort zone felt like.”
“Don’t I know all about it,” Dave said. “You ever hear the story about how I met Alyssa’s mother?”
“No, sir,” Joe said, so relieved that they weren’t talking about him anymore. “I don’t think I did.”
“She was sixteen.” Dave sat back with a reminiscent smile. “And if you thought Alyssa was a pretty girl when you met her, well, you should have seen her mother that day. I was at a church picnic, and she was there with her family. She was wearing shorts, I remember, and a shirt with a little bit of lacy trim. Not a dress, nothing like that, because we were playing softball, and she was a good athlete, just like Alyssa. But she had that lacy trim, and she was so . . . pretty,” he finished with a sigh.
He sat a moment, remembering. “Well, I looked at her, and I knew. And you have to understand,” he went on with a rueful laugh, “I don’t believe in making life decisions based on infatuation. That’s a road that tends to lead straight to unhappiness for all parties concerned, including the unfortunate kids who always seem to show up as a result. And there I was, a senior in college, looking at three or four more years of divinity school, poor as a . . . well, as a church mouse. A one-quarter Cherokee, four-quarters poor son of a single mother just scraping by herself. Not a thing in the world to offer, losing my heart to a girl from a family who had a whole different idea of the kind of future she ought to have, a girl with two more years to go just to get out of high school.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “Hopeless.”
“So what happened?” Joe asked.
“Well, there,” Dave said, “I think you’d have to call that the hand of God. Because for some strange reason, she wanted to talk to me, too, that day. And after that, I spent three years watching her get older, seeing her at church, seeing her go out with boys her own age and telling myself that that was the right thing, because I was way too old for her, and sure as heck too poor.”
He leaned back in his chair and smiled. If there was one thing Dave Kincaid could do, it was tell a story. “And then, one day,” he said, “when she was home from college for the summer, nineteen years old and getting prettier every single day, she asked me why I hadn’t ever asked her out. She said,” and he was laughing again, a deep rumble, “’I’m getting pretty tired of waiting for you.’ And what could I do? That was it for me. I was a lost man.”
“That’s a pretty good story,” Joe said.
“Yep,” Dave agreed. “Susie gets what Susie wants. I don’t know why she should have, but turns out she wanted me. Oh, it took a while, still, for us to be together, for her to finish college and all that, all the things her parents insisted on, the things I wanted for her too. I was terrified I’d lose her, but I didn’t want her to marry me without having her chance out in the world, without being old enough to be sure. But ever since then, it’s been the two of us. She’s worked harder than any woman should have to, and she’s had a whole lot less than any woman as good as her deserves, but she’s hung in there with me all the same.”
“Sounds like you both got lucky that day,” Joe said.
“Yes, we did. I know I did. And I got three pretty good kids out of the deal, too. Three kids I’m proud to call mine. And Alyssa, well, she’s the image of her mother. Not just her looks, but her spirit. Her nerve, and her heart. She’s every bit her mother’s daughter, and her mother was one in a million. I know Susie could have done better. But I’m still glad she chose me.”
He looked so at ease, so fine with all this, that Joe went ahead and asked it, the question he hadn’t dared to ask until now, because he couldn’t stand to hear the wrong answer. “And this is really all right with you? Me and Alyssa?”
“This is what I’ve been praying for,” Dave answered simply.
“Me?” It was a shock. “Why?”
“Because I know you’d never have touched her if you did
n’t love her.”
Joe sat a moment and let the truth of that percolate through him. “I just hope I can do it right,” he finally said. “I’m not good at this.”
“You just follow your heart,” Dave advised. “Your heart knows the way. When you want to close down, open up and let her see you.”
“I have a lot that’s not nice to look at,” Joe said. “What I told you, and a lot more.”
“You let her see you,” Dave said again. “Let her help you. Because you’ll be helping her, won’t you?”
“Always.” And that was true, too. All the way down.
“Then pay her the compliment of believing she can do the same, and that she wants to. That she wants to be there for you, too. Maybe a man can make it alone, maybe he can have a good life that way. I know I wouldn’t want to do it. Believe me, living in this world is a whole lot easier with a strong, loving woman by your side to share your burdens. And when you’re standing by her, sharing hers—that’s when you’re your best man.”
Joe had a horrible feeling that if he stayed in here a minute longer, he was going to cry. He stood up, held out a hand to Dave. “Thanks.” He knew he should say more, but as usual, he couldn’t think what.
Dave stood, too, and shook Joe’s hand. And then he did the thing that did Joe in. He came around his desk, wrapped his burly arms around Joe, and held him close for a moment. As if Joe really were his son.
The tears did surface then, and Joe couldn’t do a thing about them.
Talk about being out of your comfort zone.
Geek Day
Alyssa was sitting in Joe’s loft a month or so later. It had turned out that his place was nicer than her own. A lot nicer. In fact, it was so far from the white-painted one-bedroom with board-and-brick bookcases she’d imagined, it wasn’t even funny. Because Joe lived in the coolest place she’d ever seen.
It was a loft, but that didn’t really describe it. Off Fillmore Street, at the dividing line between the swank of Pacific Heights and the funky, urban Fillmore vibe of jazz clubs and restaurants, his condo was one-sixth of a converted warehouse, all industrial materials, light-filled spaces, and, at the same time, cozy warmth. Multi-paned windows made up one entire wall of the hugely oversized main room and looked out over a treetop view to Twin Peaks, across in the other direction to Japantown. The ceiling soared eighteen feet overhead, punctuated again and again by skylights, and that was the light and the space.
Asking for Trouble (The Kincaids) Page 20
