“I found her,” he said, admitting something he’d never shared with anyone. “It was horrible. I was six, but that was the day my childhood ended.”
“Oh, Jeff,” she said, and there were tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“I came home from school and wanted a snack. I knew she kept the cookies hidden on the top shelf of the pantry. I figured she wouldn’t notice if I took one or two.” He stopped. Remembering back, being in the house, it was almost like reliving it. His sigh was shaky. “I went looking for cookies and found Mom sleeping on the floor. I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t wake up.”
Dena put a hand on his knee. “Oh, Jeff.”
“Something like that happens these days, you put the kid in therapy,” he said, not surprised to hear the bitterness in his voice. “You think I got sent to therapy? I got sent to my bedroom and was told to stay there. I think it took my dad two days to remember I was in the house.”
“I … I had no idea.”
“Can you see now why I was in such a hurry to leave this godforsaken place and never come back?”
Silent tears ran down her face as she nodded.
“Soon as I turned sixteen, I was out. I wasn’t sure where I was headed, but I thought anywhere was better than here. Hitchhiked my way to New York, where I joined up with a group of petty thieves. We lived hard. Probably would have died on the streets if it hadn’t been for Grandma.”
She sniffled. “Your grandmother followed you to New York?”
“Not my biological grandmother. Grandma was an older lady who lived in a small apartment I broke into. She caught me.”
“What happened?”
“She cooked me dinner,” he said with a smile.
“She what?”
“She told me she’d cook me dinner and all I had to do was listen to her.” He shrugged. “I figured a hot home-cooked meal in exchange for listening to an old lady gabber? Easy as pie.”
She’d told him he looked like her son, all dark and dangerous and ready to pick a fight with anyone who looked at him wrong. Over dinner she said he could be a thug and fight for the wrong reasons, like her son, and die too young, like her son had. Or he could be a man and fight for the right ones.
“You picked the right ones?” Dena asked.
Jeff grinned. “Actually, I looked at her and said, ‘Hell, Grandma, I’ll fight whoever you damn well want me to if you’ll cook me dinner again.’”
Dena laughed.
“So she became ‘Grandma.’ I lived with her until she died of a massive heart attack. She’s the one who encouraged me to get my GED and join the NYPD. And she was the only person who came to my graduation from the police academy. After she died, I moved to Delaware. Worked on the force there for a few years and then quit to open the business. I was able to afford it because she left everything to me. Best damn woman I ever knew.” He smiled at her. “Over sixty, that is.”
“She saved you.”
“She did.”
“Why Delaware?”
“Why not? I figured with all the big businesses in Wilmington, there’d be need for my services.”
She looked at him quizzically for a long time. “Why did I not know this about you before?”
“I don’t like talking about it.”
“We lived together for how many years?”
“Are we going to fight about this? Is that what you want?”
Her arms were crossed and her iced tea sat beside his, neglected. She looked pissed.
“No,” she said. “I don’t want to fight. I’m just angry you have this whole past I knew nothing about until today.”
“You’ve never been exactly forthcoming about life with Daddy Dearest.”
“What’s there to tell? I was raised by nannies and dragged out on important occasions to smile and look pretty.” She shot him an evil glare. “But my dad never sent me to my room and forgot about me for two days.”
“No, your dad just threatens to shoot people if he doesn’t get his way.”
Her arms fell to her sides and her jaw dropped. “What?”
“Fuck, I didn’t mean to tell you like that.”
Horror replaced the shock in her expression. “Didn’t mean to tell me like that? Do you know what you just accused my father of?”
His rotten day had just got a hundred times worse. He dug his fingers through his hair. “Dena, let’s sit down and discuss this reasonably.”
“Reasonably?” She shot up from the couch. “I think reason left the room the minute you suggested my father would do something like that.”
He could kick himself for blurting it out like that. The only reason he could think of was that the day’s emotions had overwhelmed him. He might tell himself he didn’t grieve his father, but that didn’t mean his death didn’t affect him.
Dena had moved across the room as if needing to put as much space as possible between them. He weighed his options and then decided to go with instinct.
“Sit down,” he said in a tone of voice guaranteed to either get her attention or earn him a kick in the balls.
Multiple emotions rippled across her face. “I’m not your—”
“I am fully aware of that, but I said to sit down.” He pointed to the couch. “I buried my father today. He might have been a worthless bastard, but he was still my father. The least you can do is let me explain.”
She sat down. “You have two minutes.”
Without moving his eyes from her face, he told her about the day Senator Jenkins had paid him a visit. He left nothing out. Not the insinuation he wasn’t good enough for her, her father’s plan for her on the superior court, nor the veiled threat if he didn’t leave her alone.
By the end of the story, her bottom lip was trembling. “I don’t believe you.”
“Christ, Dena, what reason would I have to lie?”
She didn’t answer.
“You don’t want to believe me,” he said. “But deep inside, you know it’s true.”
He tried to put himself in her place. She might not have had the best relationship with her father, but there was a big difference between thinking someone’s a jerk and allowing for the possibility of that person being capable of cold-blooded violence. Especially when the person in question was your father.
“Oh, Jeff,” she said, and there were tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“I came home from school and wanted a snack. I knew she kept the cookies hidden on the top shelf of the pantry. I figured she wouldn’t notice if I took one or two.” He stopped. Remembering back, being in the house, it was almost like reliving it. His sigh was shaky. “I went looking for cookies and found Mom sleeping on the floor. I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t wake up.”
Dena put a hand on his knee. “Oh, Jeff.”
“Something like that happens these days, you put the kid in therapy,” he said, not surprised to hear the bitterness in his voice. “You think I got sent to therapy? I got sent to my bedroom and was told to stay there. I think it took my dad two days to remember I was in the house.”
“I … I had no idea.”
“Can you see now why I was in such a hurry to leave this godforsaken place and never come back?”
Silent tears ran down her face as she nodded.
“Soon as I turned sixteen, I was out. I wasn’t sure where I was headed, but I thought anywhere was better than here. Hitchhiked my way to New York, where I joined up with a group of petty thieves. We lived hard. Probably would have died on the streets if it hadn’t been for Grandma.”
She sniffled. “Your grandmother followed you to New York?”
“Not my biological grandmother. Grandma was an older lady who lived in a small apartment I broke into. She caught me.”
“What happened?”
“She cooked me dinner,” he said with a smile.
“She what?”
“She told me she’d cook me dinner and all I had to do was listen to her.” He shrugged. “I figured a hot home-cooked meal in exchange for listening to an old lady gabber? Easy as pie.”
She’d told him he looked like her son, all dark and dangerous and ready to pick a fight with anyone who looked at him wrong. Over dinner she said he could be a thug and fight for the wrong reasons, like her son, and die too young, like her son had. Or he could be a man and fight for the right ones.
“You picked the right ones?” Dena asked.
Jeff grinned. “Actually, I looked at her and said, ‘Hell, Grandma, I’ll fight whoever you damn well want me to if you’ll cook me dinner again.’”
Dena laughed.
“So she became ‘Grandma.’ I lived with her until she died of a massive heart attack. She’s the one who encouraged me to get my GED and join the NYPD. And she was the only person who came to my graduation from the police academy. After she died, I moved to Delaware. Worked on the force there for a few years and then quit to open the business. I was able to afford it because she left everything to me. Best damn woman I ever knew.” He smiled at her. “Over sixty, that is.”
“She saved you.”
“She did.”
“Why Delaware?”
“Why not? I figured with all the big businesses in Wilmington, there’d be need for my services.”
She looked at him quizzically for a long time. “Why did I not know this about you before?”
“I don’t like talking about it.”
“We lived together for how many years?”
“Are we going to fight about this? Is that what you want?”
Her arms were crossed and her iced tea sat beside his, neglected. She looked pissed.
“No,” she said. “I don’t want to fight. I’m just angry you have this whole past I knew nothing about until today.”
“You’ve never been exactly forthcoming about life with Daddy Dearest.”
“What’s there to tell? I was raised by nannies and dragged out on important occasions to smile and look pretty.” She shot him an evil glare. “But my dad never sent me to my room and forgot about me for two days.”
“No, your dad just threatens to shoot people if he doesn’t get his way.”
Her arms fell to her sides and her jaw dropped. “What?”
“Fuck, I didn’t mean to tell you like that.”
Horror replaced the shock in her expression. “Didn’t mean to tell me like that? Do you know what you just accused my father of?”
His rotten day had just got a hundred times worse. He dug his fingers through his hair. “Dena, let’s sit down and discuss this reasonably.”
“Reasonably?” She shot up from the couch. “I think reason left the room the minute you suggested my father would do something like that.”
He could kick himself for blurting it out like that. The only reason he could think of was that the day’s emotions had overwhelmed him. He might tell himself he didn’t grieve his father, but that didn’t mean his death didn’t affect him.
Dena had moved across the room as if needing to put as much space as possible between them. He weighed his options and then decided to go with instinct.
“Sit down,” he said in a tone of voice guaranteed to either get her attention or earn him a kick in the balls.
Multiple emotions rippled across her face. “I’m not your—”
“I am fully aware of that, but I said to sit down.” He pointed to the couch. “I buried my father today. He might have been a worthless bastard, but he was still my father. The least you can do is let me explain.”
She sat down. “You have two minutes.”
Without moving his eyes from her face, he told her about the day Senator Jenkins had paid him a visit. He left nothing out. Not the insinuation he wasn’t good enough for her, her father’s plan for her on the superior court, nor the veiled threat if he didn’t leave her alone.
By the end of the story, her bottom lip was trembling. “I don’t believe you.”
“Christ, Dena, what reason would I have to lie?”
She didn’t answer.
“You don’t want to believe me,” he said. “But deep inside, you know it’s true.”
He tried to put himself in her place. She might not have had the best relationship with her father, but there was a big difference between thinking someone’s a jerk and allowing for the possibility of that person being capable of cold-blooded violence. Especially when the person in question was your father.
