starrwriter
10-30-2005, 02:45 PM
David Galloway got lost trying to find the restaurant on Kilburn Avenue near Marquette University. It was the first time he had ever been in Milwaukee and the lunchtime traffic was heavy when he left the airport in a rental car. He was surprised how warm it was on this clear April day and he rolled down both front car windows as he waited at a stop light. He hadn't seen the midwest in six long years, since he moved to Los Angeles from his hometown in Michigan, but he didn't recall April being a particularly warm month in that part of the country. In Michigan April was an uncertain month when a frost could still cover the ground on any given morning.
Turning a corner, David finally spotted the restaurant and pulled into the first empty parking spot he came to. He turned off the ignition and glanced at his wristwatch. He was twenty minutes late for a lunch date he had flown 2,000 miles to keep. He was always late for every appointment he had ever made in his life, the hapless character in the old joke who would almost certainly be late for his own funeral some day.
He had expected to have knots in his stomach, but as he walked to the restaurant entrance he felt a strange calm instead, as if he was going to meet an old friend rather than a complete stranger. He had talked to the young woman twice on the phone and she described herself in police blotter detail: five-foot nine, thin build, long red hair, blue eyes, twenty-eight, married with one son. He told her he was medium height with a medium build with ordinary brown hair and she replied: "That could fit half the young guys in Milwaukie. You look for me when you get to the restaurant."
When he entered, he noticed the place was packed with lunch customers. He stood beside the take-out counter and surveyed the large room, letting his eyes drift from table to table. He soon focused on a young woman with red hair, but he dismissed her because a young boy sat at her table playing with paper napkins. His rendezvous was with a woman who specifically said she would be alone. After a few minutes of searching the faces without any luck, he wondered if the woman had left when he failed to show up on time. He strolled over to the table where the red-haired woman was now scolding the boy.
"Are you Rita Hendricks?"
She smiled at him. "Yes, are you David?"
He shook hands with her and sat down next to the boy. "You wouldn't happen
to be Bobby, would you?"
The boy looked astonished. "How do you know my name?"
"Your mother told me on the phone."
"The babysitter got sick and I couldn't find anyone else to watch him," Rita said. "I hope you don't mind me bringing him along."
"Of course not."
"Bobby, this is David. He's your half uncle."
David tried to shake hands, but the boy pulled away.
"What's a half uncle?"
"It means your mother is my half-sister. We have the same father, but different mothers."
"Grandpa is your father?"
"Not that granda," Rita said. "A different grandpa that you've never met."
Bobby wrapped a strand of his blond hair around one finger, obviously confused.
"I'll explain it to you later," his mother said. "What do you want for lunch?"
Bobby's eyes lit up. "Hamburger!"
"And soup?"
The boy frowned. "No. French fries."
"That's all he ever eats in restaurants," Rita told David.
"How old are you anyway?"
"Seven."
"He's six," Rita corrected. "I don't know why he says that."
"I'll be seven in September."
"You could pass for seven right now," David said.
"How old are you?" the boy asked.
"Twenty-three."
"I don't believe you."
"Why, do I look younger?"
"No, older."
"Behave yourself," Rita told him.
David ordered a beer with his meal, which he barely touched while the boy stuffed his mouth.
"He's got quite an appetite," David observed with a smile.
"You actually look younger than twenty-three," Rita said. "I thought the waitress was going to card you."
"I didn't know you existed until a month ago."
"I didn't know about you either, until you called. My mother got a divorce when I was a baby and she never heard from your father after that."
"You mean our father."
"He's not really my father. I don't even remember what he looks like."
"I see your point. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
She smiled at him. "Just you."
"Me neither. You could write a book and call it 'My Brother Was An Only Child.'"
"How did you find out about me?"
"My mother told me. The old man never mentioned he was married before or had a daughter. Not to me anyway."
"Where do your parents live?"
"Across the lake in a crummy little town in Michigan."
"I wonder why he never told you about me."
"We don't get along at all. I haven't seen him in years."
"What does he do for a living?"
"He's a welder. He works in a factory."
"I guess I've always been a little curious about him."
"It wouldn't have killed him to keep in touch with you."
Rita offered a feeble smile after she took a bite of salad. "I didn't expect him to do that."
"You're too forgiving, Rita. You are his daughter, after all."
"Let's not talk about him anymore. I want to hear all about you."
"There's not much to tell."
"Oh, come on. What's it like living in Los Angeles? I always wanted to see Hollywood."
David laughed. "I don't exactly hang out with movie stars."
"What sort of work do you do?"
"I'm a freelance web designer."
"No kidding. My husband teaches computer science at Marquette."
"Web design isn't nearly as complicated as computer science."
"What does freelance mean?"
"I work as an independent contractor out of my apartment. I don't have to go to an office and put up with a boss standing over my shoulder."
"Well, that sounds pretty good."
"Only when I can find enough work to pay the bills."
"You told me on the phone you were single. Do you have a girlfriend in Los Angeles?"
"I don't have much luck with women."
"You're not gay, are you?"
David gave her an irritated look. "No, I'm not."
Rita touched his arm. "I was only joking. I have a really weird sense of humor. It drives Joel crazy sometimes."
"Who's Joel?"
"My husband. I want you to meet him."
"I'm not sure how long I'll be here."
Rita wiped her mouth hurriedly with a napkin. "Uh-uh. You're eating supper with us tonight. Joel would never forgive me if I let you escape before he met you."
"I'll try to make it."
"I'll find out which hotel you're staying at. Joel and I will come and kidnap you if necessary."
David grinned at her. "Do you always get your own way?"
"Ninety-nine percent of the time. I'm very strong willed, you know."
"You're also very beautiful."
Rita let out an embarrassed laugh. "You shouldn't say something like that to your half sister."
"It's true. I can't believe we have the same father."
"Bobby, that's enough ketchup. Your fries are practically floating." She turned back to David. "You're not bad looking yourself. I can't believe some attractive California girl hasn't taken you out of circulation yet."
"I enjoy living alone."
"How come?"
"It's more peaceful."
"Don't you ever get lonely?"
"Occasionally, but I can handle it."
"So you're a tough guy, huh?"
"Not really."
"From now on I want you to call me if you get lonely. Reverse the charges or whatever. Promise?"
"I'll think about it."
"You're the stubborn type, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I suppose I am."
"If you don't call once in awhile, I'll phone you and nag for hours."
"My number is unlisted."
"I'll look it up on our phone bill."
"I feel sorry for your husband. He doesn't stand a chance against you."
Rita laughed triumphantly. "Neither do you. Now tell me more about yourself. You were in the Army, right?"
Turning a corner, David finally spotted the restaurant and pulled into the first empty parking spot he came to. He turned off the ignition and glanced at his wristwatch. He was twenty minutes late for a lunch date he had flown 2,000 miles to keep. He was always late for every appointment he had ever made in his life, the hapless character in the old joke who would almost certainly be late for his own funeral some day.
He had expected to have knots in his stomach, but as he walked to the restaurant entrance he felt a strange calm instead, as if he was going to meet an old friend rather than a complete stranger. He had talked to the young woman twice on the phone and she described herself in police blotter detail: five-foot nine, thin build, long red hair, blue eyes, twenty-eight, married with one son. He told her he was medium height with a medium build with ordinary brown hair and she replied: "That could fit half the young guys in Milwaukie. You look for me when you get to the restaurant."
When he entered, he noticed the place was packed with lunch customers. He stood beside the take-out counter and surveyed the large room, letting his eyes drift from table to table. He soon focused on a young woman with red hair, but he dismissed her because a young boy sat at her table playing with paper napkins. His rendezvous was with a woman who specifically said she would be alone. After a few minutes of searching the faces without any luck, he wondered if the woman had left when he failed to show up on time. He strolled over to the table where the red-haired woman was now scolding the boy.
"Are you Rita Hendricks?"
She smiled at him. "Yes, are you David?"
He shook hands with her and sat down next to the boy. "You wouldn't happen
to be Bobby, would you?"
The boy looked astonished. "How do you know my name?"
"Your mother told me on the phone."
"The babysitter got sick and I couldn't find anyone else to watch him," Rita said. "I hope you don't mind me bringing him along."
"Of course not."
"Bobby, this is David. He's your half uncle."
David tried to shake hands, but the boy pulled away.
"What's a half uncle?"
"It means your mother is my half-sister. We have the same father, but different mothers."
"Grandpa is your father?"
"Not that granda," Rita said. "A different grandpa that you've never met."
Bobby wrapped a strand of his blond hair around one finger, obviously confused.
"I'll explain it to you later," his mother said. "What do you want for lunch?"
Bobby's eyes lit up. "Hamburger!"
"And soup?"
The boy frowned. "No. French fries."
"That's all he ever eats in restaurants," Rita told David.
"How old are you anyway?"
"Seven."
"He's six," Rita corrected. "I don't know why he says that."
"I'll be seven in September."
"You could pass for seven right now," David said.
"How old are you?" the boy asked.
"Twenty-three."
"I don't believe you."
"Why, do I look younger?"
"No, older."
"Behave yourself," Rita told him.
David ordered a beer with his meal, which he barely touched while the boy stuffed his mouth.
"He's got quite an appetite," David observed with a smile.
"You actually look younger than twenty-three," Rita said. "I thought the waitress was going to card you."
"I didn't know you existed until a month ago."
"I didn't know about you either, until you called. My mother got a divorce when I was a baby and she never heard from your father after that."
"You mean our father."
"He's not really my father. I don't even remember what he looks like."
"I see your point. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
She smiled at him. "Just you."
"Me neither. You could write a book and call it 'My Brother Was An Only Child.'"
"How did you find out about me?"
"My mother told me. The old man never mentioned he was married before or had a daughter. Not to me anyway."
"Where do your parents live?"
"Across the lake in a crummy little town in Michigan."
"I wonder why he never told you about me."
"We don't get along at all. I haven't seen him in years."
"What does he do for a living?"
"He's a welder. He works in a factory."
"I guess I've always been a little curious about him."
"It wouldn't have killed him to keep in touch with you."
Rita offered a feeble smile after she took a bite of salad. "I didn't expect him to do that."
"You're too forgiving, Rita. You are his daughter, after all."
"Let's not talk about him anymore. I want to hear all about you."
"There's not much to tell."
"Oh, come on. What's it like living in Los Angeles? I always wanted to see Hollywood."
David laughed. "I don't exactly hang out with movie stars."
"What sort of work do you do?"
"I'm a freelance web designer."
"No kidding. My husband teaches computer science at Marquette."
"Web design isn't nearly as complicated as computer science."
"What does freelance mean?"
"I work as an independent contractor out of my apartment. I don't have to go to an office and put up with a boss standing over my shoulder."
"Well, that sounds pretty good."
"Only when I can find enough work to pay the bills."
"You told me on the phone you were single. Do you have a girlfriend in Los Angeles?"
"I don't have much luck with women."
"You're not gay, are you?"
David gave her an irritated look. "No, I'm not."
Rita touched his arm. "I was only joking. I have a really weird sense of humor. It drives Joel crazy sometimes."
"Who's Joel?"
"My husband. I want you to meet him."
"I'm not sure how long I'll be here."
Rita wiped her mouth hurriedly with a napkin. "Uh-uh. You're eating supper with us tonight. Joel would never forgive me if I let you escape before he met you."
"I'll try to make it."
"I'll find out which hotel you're staying at. Joel and I will come and kidnap you if necessary."
David grinned at her. "Do you always get your own way?"
"Ninety-nine percent of the time. I'm very strong willed, you know."
"You're also very beautiful."
Rita let out an embarrassed laugh. "You shouldn't say something like that to your half sister."
"It's true. I can't believe we have the same father."
"Bobby, that's enough ketchup. Your fries are practically floating." She turned back to David. "You're not bad looking yourself. I can't believe some attractive California girl hasn't taken you out of circulation yet."
"I enjoy living alone."
"How come?"
"It's more peaceful."
"Don't you ever get lonely?"
"Occasionally, but I can handle it."
"So you're a tough guy, huh?"
"Not really."
"From now on I want you to call me if you get lonely. Reverse the charges or whatever. Promise?"
"I'll think about it."
"You're the stubborn type, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I suppose I am."
"If you don't call once in awhile, I'll phone you and nag for hours."
"My number is unlisted."
"I'll look it up on our phone bill."
"I feel sorry for your husband. He doesn't stand a chance against you."
Rita laughed triumphantly. "Neither do you. Now tell me more about yourself. You were in the Army, right?"