that?"
"She said you might be my father."
I raised an eyebrow. That was interesting: might be—only might be. It'd be a hell of a relief if she turned out to be Carl's kid, after all. I tried not to sound too eager. "What else did she say?"
"She said she started fucking Carl right after you left, and she wasn't sure whose I was. She was gonna get me tested, but I wouldn't let her."
"Why not?"
"I thought she just said it 'cause she didn't like that I, you know, didn't hate Carl as much as she did."
I nodded. Smart girl.
"So do you think you're my father?" she asked, naughty and wheedling, looking for that weakness.
"I honestly don't know, Serena."
"Is that why you don't want to do anything with me?"
"I'm having breakfast with you. Doesn't that count?"
"I mean sex stuff."
"Oh." I dabbed at my mouth with one of the paper towels we were using for napkins. "I guess. That and the fact that I'm married and you're a child."
"I'm sixteen."
I'm afraid I smirked a bit at that.
She returned to the attack. "Like, is that why you're here? You think you're my father and you're gonna, like, swoop down suddenly and save me from my life. You're gonna, like, bring me to Jesus."
"I, like, might." I laughed. "You better be careful. Before you know it, you'll be singing hallelujah, handling snakes, God knows what else."
"Yeah. Like fat fucking Chinese chance. Y'know?" She reached down for her shoes. Slipped them on her feet. "Look, I gotta get back to the city," she said. She stood up. She took hold of her purse. "Are you gonna drive me, or do I have to hitchhike?"
I give myself some credit here. It would've been a lot easier to just let her go. Let her go and forget about her. Then I could've finished up with the Realtor, cleaned out the house, put it on the
market and gone home, back to the Hill. I could've walked away from this, from all of it, even from the End of Civilization as We Know It. I mean, what was that to me?
But the thing is, when you take charge of someone, you take responsibility for her, too. If I've learned nothing else in life, I've learned that. So I took a sizable chomp out of a piece of toast. And chewing on the mouthful, I said, "Why don't you sit down, Serena."
"I gotta go," she insisted.
"Sit down," I insisted back.
She snorted with scorn. "Yeah, right. Like you're gonna make me? I didn't think so. 'Bye."
"Sit down. Right now."
"Oh? Or, like, what? You'll spank me? I know you're into all that sick shit."
I cracked up. I dropped my forehead into my hand, laughing. Kids. "For crying out loud, Serena. Would you sit down, please?"
"Stop laughing at me, God damn it! All right, that's it! I'll hitchhike."
She started to flounce off. I sighed. I reached out from my seat and grabbed hold of her arm. It was so thin, my thumb touched my knuckles.
"Let go of me!" She yanked away violently. I let her go and she stumbled back a step. "You fucking pervert."
I stood up, towered over her, blocked her way. "Sit. Down. Now. I'm not kidding."
Her eyes moved to the door. She thought of trying to rush past me. Then she thought better of it: She wouldn't have made it. She gave me her angry teenaged fish frown—she waggled it up at me.
"This is, like, kidnapping, you know. You could, like, go to jail for this."
"Call the police then."
She started, and her face went blank as if a little shock had gone through her. I seized the moment. I grabbed the purse out of her hand.
"Give that back!" she said, but weakly.
I snapped the purse open. I dug out her cell phone. I tossed the purse on the table. Held the phone out at her.
"Call them," I said. "Tell them you're being kidnapped. Call 911. Go ahead. I'll wait."
For once, she couldn't think of anything to say. No childish taunts, no naïve threats, no ignorant arguments. The whole teen arsenal was shot. Her pale face trembled; her eyes pleaded and grew damp.
"Now sit down, Serena," I said. "I'm not going to tell you again."
She sank slowly, resentfully, back
"She said you might be my father."
I raised an eyebrow. That was interesting: might be—only might be. It'd be a hell of a relief if she turned out to be Carl's kid, after all. I tried not to sound too eager. "What else did she say?"
"She said she started fucking Carl right after you left, and she wasn't sure whose I was. She was gonna get me tested, but I wouldn't let her."
"Why not?"
"I thought she just said it 'cause she didn't like that I, you know, didn't hate Carl as much as she did."
I nodded. Smart girl.
"So do you think you're my father?" she asked, naughty and wheedling, looking for that weakness.
"I honestly don't know, Serena."
"Is that why you don't want to do anything with me?"
"I'm having breakfast with you. Doesn't that count?"
"I mean sex stuff."
"Oh." I dabbed at my mouth with one of the paper towels we were using for napkins. "I guess. That and the fact that I'm married and you're a child."
"I'm sixteen."
I'm afraid I smirked a bit at that.
She returned to the attack. "Like, is that why you're here? You think you're my father and you're gonna, like, swoop down suddenly and save me from my life. You're gonna, like, bring me to Jesus."
"I, like, might." I laughed. "You better be careful. Before you know it, you'll be singing hallelujah, handling snakes, God knows what else."
"Yeah. Like fat fucking Chinese chance. Y'know?" She reached down for her shoes. Slipped them on her feet. "Look, I gotta get back to the city," she said. She stood up. She took hold of her purse. "Are you gonna drive me, or do I have to hitchhike?"
I give myself some credit here. It would've been a lot easier to just let her go. Let her go and forget about her. Then I could've finished up with the Realtor, cleaned out the house, put it on the
market and gone home, back to the Hill. I could've walked away from this, from all of it, even from the End of Civilization as We Know It. I mean, what was that to me?
But the thing is, when you take charge of someone, you take responsibility for her, too. If I've learned nothing else in life, I've learned that. So I took a sizable chomp out of a piece of toast. And chewing on the mouthful, I said, "Why don't you sit down, Serena."
"I gotta go," she insisted.
"Sit down," I insisted back.
She snorted with scorn. "Yeah, right. Like you're gonna make me? I didn't think so. 'Bye."
"Sit down. Right now."
"Oh? Or, like, what? You'll spank me? I know you're into all that sick shit."
I cracked up. I dropped my forehead into my hand, laughing. Kids. "For crying out loud, Serena. Would you sit down, please?"
"Stop laughing at me, God damn it! All right, that's it! I'll hitchhike."
She started to flounce off. I sighed. I reached out from my seat and grabbed hold of her arm. It was so thin, my thumb touched my knuckles.
"Let go of me!" She yanked away violently. I let her go and she stumbled back a step. "You fucking pervert."
I stood up, towered over her, blocked her way. "Sit. Down. Now. I'm not kidding."
Her eyes moved to the door. She thought of trying to rush past me. Then she thought better of it: She wouldn't have made it. She gave me her angry teenaged fish frown—she waggled it up at me.
"This is, like, kidnapping, you know. You could, like, go to jail for this."
"Call the police then."
She started, and her face went blank as if a little shock had gone through her. I seized the moment. I grabbed the purse out of her hand.
"Give that back!" she said, but weakly.
I snapped the purse open. I dug out her cell phone. I tossed the purse on the table. Held the phone out at her.
"Call them," I said. "Tell them you're being kidnapped. Call 911. Go ahead. I'll wait."
For once, she couldn't think of anything to say. No childish taunts, no naïve threats, no ignorant arguments. The whole teen arsenal was shot. Her pale face trembled; her eyes pleaded and grew damp.
"Now sit down, Serena," I said. "I'm not going to tell you again."
She sank slowly, resentfully, back
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