But then I trailed off. It was easier to explain it like that than to go into detail, but the truth was, that final night aside, I had no actual memory of my father being physically violent toward my mother or me. The drinking, yes, although I didn’t really understand that at the time; I just knew that he was angry all the time, that he disappeared for days, that there was too little money, that my parents argued furiously. And I remembered the resentment and bitterness that would beat out from him—the sense of threat that pervaded the air, as though something bad might happen at any moment. I remembered being afraid. But actual violence might have been pushing it.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Karen said.
I shrugged again, feeling awkward now.
“Thanks. But yes, it was strange seeing him. I remember him, of course, but he’s not like he was. He doesn’t look like a drinker now. His whole manner seems different. Quieter.”
“People change.”
“They do. And it’s fine, really. We’re both completely different people now. I’m not a kid anymore. He’s not really my father. It doesn’t matter at all.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
“Well. It is what it is.”
“That, I believe.” Karen had finished her coffee and now she began slipping on her coat. “And on that note, I’m going to have to love you and leave you, I’m afraid.”
“You have to go and be tired somewhere?”
“No, I slept well, remember?”
“Right.” I swirled around the dregs of my own drink. She didn’t seem inclined to tell me where she was going, and it occurred to me that I barely knew anything about her at all. “We spent the whole time talking about me, you realize? That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Because you’re much more interesting than I am, especially right now. Perhaps it’s something you can write about in one of your books.”
“Maybe.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I googled you.” She looked momentarily embarrassed. “I’m good at finding things out. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Your secret is safe.”
“Glad to hear it.” She paused, as though there was something else she wanted to say. But then she shook her head, clearly thinking better of it. “See you later?”
“You will. Take care.”
I drained the last of my coffee as she left, wondering what she might have been about to say just then. And also thinking about the fact that she’d googled me. What did that mean?
And was it wrong that I quite liked it?
Thirty-seven
“Are you finished with that, love?”
The man shook his head, momentarily unsure where he was and what was being asked of him. Then he saw the waitress smiling at him, looked down at the table, and realized he’d finished his coffee.
“Yes.” He leaned back. “Sorry, I was miles away, there.”
She smiled again as she picked up his empty cup.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“Maybe in a minute.”
He had no intention of ordering anything, but even though the shop was only half full it made sense to be polite and observe social mores. He didn’t want to be remembered as someone who overstayed his welcome. He didn’t want to be remembered at all.
And he was good at that—although it was true that people made it easy for him. So many of them seemed to be lost in the noise of existence, all but sleepwalking through their lives, oblivious to the world around them. Hypnotized by their cell phones. Ignoring the others they passed. People were self-centered and uncaring, and they paid little attention to things on their periphery. If you didn’t stand out, you vanished as quickly from their minds as a dream.
He stared at Tom Kennedy, sitting two tables away.
Kennedy had his back to him, and now that the woman had left, the man could stare if he wanted. When she had been there, facing him, he had sipped his coffee and pretended to study his phone, making himself an unremarkable part of the shop’s scenery. But listening carefully the whole time, of course. Conversations mingled around you if you let them, becoming an impenetrable background hum, but if you focused you could pull one out and follow it easily. All it required was concentration, like delicately tuning a radio until the static disappeared and you were left with a clear signal.
How right he had been, he thought now.
We sometimes find it hard to talk to each other.
He’s not the easiest of kids.
Well, the man was sure that Jake would flourish under his care. He would give