old man,” the taller one says as the short one slaps my dad once more.
I pick Blair up and rest her weight on one side of my hip. My back nearly seizes up. She presses her face into my shoulder. “One week for what?” I sigh. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”
“It’s nothing,” he coughs. “They’re just punk kids.”
“They don’t look like kids.”
“Fine…okay,” he mumbles. “Maybe I owe them a little money.”
“Money for what? How much money?” Not wanting to owe anyone anything is in part why my father says he stays on the streets. He has a distrust of pretty much everything. He wants to rely on himself. Everything else, and anyone else—which includes his own daughter—has been corrupted. The mark of the beast, he says.
“Are you hungry?” I ask again. “How am I supposed to get in touch with you if you don’t have a phone?”
“We’re in touch,” he says, waving his arms. “You see, we’re in touch.”
“If you won’t take food—how can I help you? Where are you staying?”
“How’s your mother?”
“I wouldn’t know. You know she doesn’t speak to me.”
“She loves you, your mother. Always has. You should have seen her on the day you were born—”
“I asked where you are staying,” I say, changing the subject.
“Oh, you know, here and there.”
I have so many questions. So many things I want to say. All I can manage is, “It’s almost Christmas.”
“Christmas,” he spits. “Let me tell you about Christmas—”
I know he’s about to fly into some rant about how it’s a made-up holiday intended to suck people into more debt, and how the material world is evil and how the way I live my life is a sin. Which, all things considered, isn’t entirely wrong. But the girls are too young to understand their grandfather’s mental illness, so I quickly change the subject. “Here,” I say, fishing for my wallet. “Let me give you some money. This way you can call me. Do you remember my number?”
“Phones are the mark of the beast,” he mumbles. “They’re tracking and tracing you, you know. Everywhere you go. Everything you do. They know about it. They’re listening, just so they can sell you more stuff you don’t need. And they cause cancer.”
“Right.” I glance down at Naomi. Her face is impassible. “Well, how about”—I shift Blair to my other hip and then force a ten-dollar bill in his direction—“just a little money so you can buy something to eat.”
His hand shakes as he takes the money from my hand.
“Maybe you could let me know where you’re going to be, and when, so I can get you some more. I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t carry much cash.”
He stuffs the bill in his pocket and lowers to the ground. “And who’s this?” he asks, peering up at me. “Who are these children?”
“That’s Naomi, Daddy. You remember. And this is Blair.”
“Okay.” He pushes himself up to a standing position. “But why are they with you?”
“They’re my daughters—your grandchildren.”
“Good for you,” he says. “I never had any children.”
He mumbles something inaudible before taking off with his cart in the opposite direction. A few feet in, he stops, turns back and shakes his head. “Thunder only happens when it’s raining.”
“What’s Grandpa talking about?” Blair sniffles. I set her on her feet, and she looks up at the sky. “Is it going to rain?”
“It’s a song, love. From the past. When I was a little girl.”
“Do you know it?”
“Not anymore.”
She slips her hand in mine. “I think it’s like a puzzle, Mama. He probably wants us to figure it out.”
“Yeah,” I say, dropping her hand in order to press the button for the crosswalk. “I think you’re right.” Tears fill my eyes. “But some things are just mysteries.”
As we cross the street and make our way over to where our car is parked, I glance back over my shoulder several times. It strikes me that I don’t know when and if I’ll ever see my father again. It’s suffocating to think this may be the last time. And yet, I know I’ll never stop searching every face on every corner. It’s a habit that’s hard to break. It’s hard to shut something off when it’s been a part of your life for so long.
I often lay awake at night wondering if my father would know to tell them to call me if he landed in the hospital. Now, after this encounter, I know there will be many more sleepless nights. I am less sure