The Perfect Daughter - Joseph Souza Page 0,14

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Cutting men’s hair proved much harder than she had initially thought, and she struggled with her technique those first few months. But her grandfather showed lots of patience with her, as did many of his customers, who generously allowed her to experiment on them. They laughed when she screwed up, and gave her a big tip regardless of how they looked afterward, happy just to have an attractive and friendly woman working on them. She learned to follow the Boston sports teams and to speak the language, so much so that she could discuss batting averages, nickel defenses, and power plays. She discovered that men were much easier to please than women, especially when cutting their bangs, and that knowing the score of a Red Sox or Bruins game was often far more important than making sure their sideburns—or sideboards, as many of the locals called them—were even. Little did she know, but all that time he was training her, her grandfather was quietly transitioning all his old customers over to her.

Barbering had been such an important part of his life that he died a little over a year after retiring. He had no other hobbies or passions. It was the social aspect of his profession that had kept him going. She missed him dearly. Not a day went by in her shop that she didn’t think about him.

They returned to the kitchen table. Karl parked in front of his computer as loud explosions burst forth from the TV. A door opened in the hallway, and before she could get up, she saw her father shuffle into the kitchen. He was dressed neatly in brown trousers and a white button-down shirt, and he smiled brightly upon seeing Karl.

“Well, look who’s here,” he said, walking over and putting a hand on the cop’s shoulder. “You taking my daughter out on the town tonight?”

Karl’s face blushed, and he looked over at her, as if asking for help.

“We’re not going anywhere, Dad,” Isla said, averting her eyes from Karl’s embarrassed gaze.

“Good. Maybe he can stay for supper tonight and we can play Crazy Eights.”

“Dad, why don’t you go sit out on the deck for a little while? The weather’s nice. I’ll bring you out a sandwich.”

“A sandwich sounds great.” He leaned into Karl’s ear and said, “Make sure you bring her home before eleven.”

“Will do, Mr. Lee.”

Embarrassed by her father’s words, Isla guided him out to the deck and waited until he sat down. He could sit there for hours, staring out at the ocean. She wondered what went through his mind. Did he think about his past? His wife and family? Or did random memories pass haphazardly through his diseased brain? Was he happy to live in the moment, his memories coming and going at will? He was a good man, and she missed the easy way he had about him when he was healthy. She kissed his head and headed back inside.

“I’m so sorry about that. It’s the Alzheimer’s making him act that way.”

“Don’t be silly. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“No, I suppose not. It’s just that what he remembers is so random.”

“Maybe he’s remembering some good memories.”

“Maybe,” she said. “You always did bring me home by curfew.”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted to.” He stared down at the table. “I’m just sorry to see your father like that. He was always such a good guy.”

“Thank you.”

Karl picked up his computer and stood. “I think I have all the information I need for now.”

“You look tired. Have you gotten any sleep since you went off shift?”

“No, but then again, I don’t need much to begin with.”

She could tell he’d just lied.

“Don’t worry, Isla. We’re going to find her.”

“I know.” Tears bubbled in her eyes.

“I swear I won’t rest until she’s back home with you.”

She nodded, unable to speak, and watched as he left.

* * *

What to do? A vague feeling of dread came over her as she rinsed out the cups and emptied the coffee filter. She desperately needed to find Katie. She checked on her dad and found him staring blissfully out at the ocean, his calloused hands intertwined over his chest, the sandwich still untouched on his plate. In the living room, the boys had switched to playing video games. Scout looked up at her and yawned, a good sign. Calmness prevailed inside Raisin’s mercurial body.

Once again, she called Ray on her cell phone, and again, the call went directly to message. Had he shut his phone off? Lost

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