candy in his hand. “You wasn’t eating them, Missy.”
Because he’s here and he’s hungry I can tell he’s waiting for Ma. It’s in the darkness of his mood. The fact that his rum shop friends are trying to reach him but he doesn’t want to answer them. So I go to the kitchen and fry up some bake, triangles of fluffy dough that I slather with butter and cheese, just the way he likes it. He doesn’t even say thanks, as usual.
“You’re too skinny, girl,” he says, without even looking at me. “You should eat something.”
“Okay.”
This is a standard example of our sparkling conversation.
“You have a boyfriend yet?”
I think about Jason. “No.”
“What about that boy from next door you always with?”
Columbus? Ew. “Definitely not.”
Dad seems as glad about this as I am. “Good. You need to focus on your studies. Where’s your Mommy?”
I hate it when he calls her my Mommy. It’s a Trini thing, but still. There’s no reason to keep everything from the old country. Isn’t that why we came to this new country? To leave behind all the awkward crap? “At work, probably.”
“Probably?”
I shrug. I’m not her keeper. Dad’s phone rings just then, so I’m spared more of this quality bonding time.
“Eat something,” he says before answering the phone and shouting to one of his friends about how cold it is up here. Surprise surprise. You’re in Canada now. Maybe put on a jacket?
There is no way in hell I can eat fried dough post-workout, so I mix a protein shake and gulp it on the way upstairs. About an hour later I hear him leave the house. I go to the kitchen and eat the rest of the tamarind balls.
My phone buzzes. It’s Columbus. Can I come over now? No doubt smelling the fried dough from his house. We do share a wall, after all.
Use your keys, I’m not coming down.
Not sure why Ma first gave Pammy keys, only that her and Columbus have had them hanging in their kitchen for as long as I can remember. Columbus uses them most often to scrounge around for food, but not usually when Dad is here. I guess we’ve both been waiting for Dad to leave, for the reprieve. I hope there’s some to spare for Ma.
six
Maybe the fumes from the bake and cheese went to his head, or it could be that I finally did something right, because Dad comes to pick me up from the gym the next day for some extra quality bonding time.
I’m sparring when I see him watching from the doorway.
He looks…proud? I mean, I’m doing pretty well if I do say so myself, so why wouldn’t he be? I guess it’s just a new feeling, is all, and it’s super freaking weird to see him there. He usually has other things to do, like…okay, I can’t really think of what else he does when he comes up from Trinidad. Whatever it is, it’s not picking me up from anything. Dad’s a big believer in using Ma’s car while other people take public transit.
“How’s your Mommy been?” he asks, as we walk to the parking lot.
“Good.” I can feel the sweat cooling on my body, turning sticky. I don’t mind taking the train in this stench, but I am glad for the ride. Even though I’d never say it to him.
“She working a lot?”
I shrug. “I guess.” Ma always works a lot, though. So it’s not been much different.
“She going out and seeing she friends on the weekend?”
What’s with the interest in Ma’s whereabouts and weekend activities all of a sudden? “I don’t know. I’ve been busy with school,” I say, because I’m not going to snitch on anybody. Even if Ma was missing for months, I still wouldn’t tell him.
It doesn’t look like he believes me but suddenly he grins and puts a hand on my shoulder like we’re old pals. The thing about my dad is that when he smiles it really suits him. You’re not supposed to tell people they should smile more because they look better when they do, but with him it’s actually true. I can almost see what Ma sees in him when he’s like this.
Almost but not quite.
On the drive home, he asks some questions about school and I tell him about my plans to be in business management. He likes the sound of that a lot but flat out tells me I should get a part-time job to supplement my student loans for college because