of sleek tan slacks.
He’s coming toward me down Denman Street, and we’re an equal number of steps away from the restaurant door now. He matches me stride for stride. When you’ve got a lot riding on a situation, everything starts to seem like an omen. And this seems like a good one: something about balance, as if Sam and I are both on the same see-saw.
A couple of feet apart, we stop. With the sun hitting him in the face, he shields his eyes. Sam and I are nearly eye-to-eye now. I’m five–seven and he’s just a little taller. I flash on Lou ducking as he passes through to the kitchen. Sam ducks cops, questions and ex-wives. But not me. Not now.
I take another step. Stop.
He’s tanned. As if he’s been in Miami. He raises his arms to embrace me.
Like overstuffed Raggedy Ann dolls, we don’t bend in quite the right places. We pat each other’s back.
“Long time,” Sam mumbles.
It’s been almost a year. I wonder if he remembers that shopping trip. I wish I hadn’t thought of that. Marlene’s voice bangs around inside my head: Come on, Momma. Pushing me into the bedroom. Come, on, Momma, come on … Nice guy, eh.
I look down at a crack in the sidewalk, rock on my sandals and then stumble a bit as I go for the restaurant door. I pull the handle. It doesn’t budge.
“Closed,” Sam reads.
“How come?” I stare at the door like someone just told me heaven was shut down.
He cups his eyes as he looks inside. “Looks like they’re doing renovations.”
The both of us search around for a sign to tell us what the hell to do next. Two taxis roll by in traffic.
“You cab it here?” I ask.
“Uh …” He looks back over his shoulder. “We’re in a hotel down the block.”
We meant him and Peggy. At least he didn’t bring her along. That must count for something.
“I could drive us to a restaurant in Stanley Park,” I suggest.
“You got wheels?” He pops his eyebrows a little and smirks and the two of us turn and head for the truck.
As I step off the curb to cross the road, my knees are suddenly stiff. I wonder if Sam might be nervous too. More nervous, like the way people say a spider is more scared of you than you are of it.
He gives Lou’s truck the once-over before he gets in. “This belong to your friend?”
“Her dad.”
He eyes the dashboard and comments on how new it looks. “What’s he do?”
“I think it’s leased,” I tell him. “He works at Oakalla Prison and her mom doesn’t do anything.” They’re none of Sam’s business.
I sit up straight and put the key in the ignition. The engine fires up easy and the full-stomach rumble of it makes me feel better.
“Jill’s dad took me to get a road test a few weeks ago,” I say. “I just got my driver’s licence.”
“Jeez and he’s lettin’ you drive his nice new truck already, huh?” he says.
My father rolls down his window as we drive into the park. “So, how’s your life?”
“S’all right. One more year of school. But I talked to the guidance counsellor about finishing early or even in a different city.” This part isn’t exactly accurate. Crystal Norris said once that she talked to Mr. Walters about finishing early. Sam would like it if it were me who took that initiative, though. “Mr. Walters was saying if I—”
“What’s doin’ with your mother? She outta that place yet?”
I glance at him. “What place?”
“That mental health place. Your mother give ’em my number, I guess. They gave me a buzz to see if I knew where you were. I gave them your friend’s number.”
“I thought they called the Welfare to find me.” I roll my window down too.
“She out?”
“What? Oh. Yeah. Few days ago. Maybe more.”
“You and her are talking, aren’tcha?”
“I went and saw her there.” I steer us toward the aquarium and the zoo and glance sideways to read him. Can’t, though. No one can read Sam. That’s what makes him good. “She liked it there. She said she was scared they were going to send her home and so when she went to group therapy she put green eye shadow all over her face. They acted like it was no big deal. Kept her around another week, though.”
He laughs. I do too. Any hustle that works is a good hustle.
“You’re going back home, then?”
I keep my eyes on the road. “I don’t