“I don’t drink,” Vance said.
This was such a strange comment that both Nick and I looked at Vance.
“No?” Nick asked.
“Recovering alcoholic,” Vance said, now his eyes were on the TV.
I moved my eyes back to the TV too, shocked at this knowledge and not wanting to make a big deal of it.
I couldn’t imagine Vance as a drunk or out of control in any way. He seemed to be totally on top of every situation.
I took another big bite of pizza, chewed and pulled off a bit and fed it to Boo who was staring at my slice of pizza with desperate kitty eyes.
“How long you been dry?” Nick asked.
“Ten years. Dried out in prison,” Vance replied.
Nick and I looked at Vance again.
“Prison?” Nick asked.
“Two years. Grand theft auto.”
I swallowed hard and turned back to the television.
“Christ, man,” Nick said softly, “you must have been what, a teenager?”
“Sent down when I was twenty,” Vance replied.
I took another bite of pizza and gave another piece to Boo.
Boo was in heaven. I was freaking out.
“Close with your folks?” Nick asked.
“Nick…” I decided to cut in. He was getting a bit nosy.
He was the only father I ever knew and any father’s duty was to be hard on his daughter’s dates. Especially when they informed you they were recovering alcoholics and ex-cons. But this wasn’t high school and this was a bit much.
“Haven’t seen ‘em since I was ten,” Vance answered without hesitation.
My head swung around and I looked at Vance. He was leaned back in his chair, eyes on the TV, casual and laid back, seemingly unaffected by Nick’s third degree.
I looked hard at him, an expert at reading people, it was part of my job, but he gave no indication he was uncomfortable in any way.
“Why not?” Nick asked, giving up on football and turned fully to Vance.
“Father turned me out. Wasn’t a good place to be so I didn’t go back.”
I took another bite, forced my eyes to the television and fed Boo another tidbit. I tried to take my mind off a ten year old Vance turned out of his home but I couldn’t. I couldn’t imagine any ten year old being turned out of their home (even though I did what I did, it still surprised me, practically every day) and I didn’t even want to consider the idea that it happened to Vance. In fact, I hated the idea so much it caused me physical pain. My stomach began to hurt, like I was going to be sick, but I forced myself to eat the pizza like nothing was wrong.
“Well, there you go.” Even Nick couldn’t go on after that piece of information was shared.
“Can we watch football?” I asked the television.
“Yes ma’am,” Nick answered.
The room went silent. I finished my pizza and found my mouth was dry, probably for more reasons than just eating a slice of pepperoni pizza. I picked up Boo, got up and dumped him on Nick’s stomach.