Page 9 of Forfeits

“Dad,” Lucy said, concern in her voice.

“Yes?” I said, turning to her.

“What’s wrong?”

“What?” I asked. I didn’t know what she meant.

She was gazing at me with concern. “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

Oh fuck, do I?

“Sorry,” I said, clearing my throat and attempting to look normal, even though my entire world had changed in a moment. “Let’s go.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” she said. “Maybe you’re having a stroke.”

“I’m not having a stroke,” I said, following her out through the main doors, my heart fluttering in my chest like a trapped butterfly.

“Damn. Because I wouldn’t have to go to the dentist if you were.”

“Nice. Thanks a lot,” I said. “And watch your language.”

“Oh please,” Lucy laughed. “I’m twelve.”

Twelve going on eighteen sometimes. It scared me just how close Lucy was to being a full-fledged teenager.

The fluttering in my chest diminished as we walked to the car, but the shock of seeing the stranger from the kink club and that mess of an encounter stayed with me. What were the odds of that? One in a million…or even a billion?

As I sat in the waiting room, I tapped on my photo app. I had a picture of the twink somewhere. He’d snatched my phone and taken a selfie before we’d decided to hook up, and I’d never deleted it. My memories of him were fond, even if they were overlaid with the guilt of a drunken disaster. He’d been kind and he’d taken care of me, even though I had said it would be the other way around. And he’d left me when I’d needed to be by myself.

I found the photo. I’d saved it in my favorites. His happy eyes and smile stared back at me from that long-ago place where I’d gone to distract myself and tried to soothe the pain of Daniel’s recent demise. Part of me wished I’d learned his name, but another part of me saw him as the universe extending a helping hand to me that evening.

It hadn’t been pleasant, sobbing in my car after he’d given me a quick hand job. But afterward, the pain around my heart hadn’t hurt so bad and, looking back, it was the beginning of a healing journey. I’d stopped looking for casual hookups at bars after that and focused on Lucy, going to my therapist and doing good work. The pain had gotten easier to bear, slowly, gradually, like the healing of a wound. For a while it was angry and raw, then it became a constant throb, until eventually, it somehow scabbed over. Every now and then I’d still feel it, and sometimes it itched and I had to attend to the memories and cry again, or do something to honor him, like my therapist had suggested.

But I’d come a long way.

“Got my goody bag,” Lucy said, when she swaggered out ahead of the hygienist.

“Hi, Mr. Marin,” the hygienist said. “Lucy’s doing pretty well with her brushing, but I’ve told her she needs to floss.”

Lucy made a face.

“Okay,” I said. “Sure.” I didn’t tell her that sometimes it was all I could do to get Lucy to have regular showers these days.

“It’s something she can do while she’s watching TV or before bed. It’s really important.”

The hygienist smiled, as if she were sharing happy news and not setting up a battle between my daughter and me.

“Of course.”

“See you next time, Lucy,” the hygienist said in a bubbly voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lucy said, giving her a vague wave as she moved past me. “Can we go now?”

“I have to pay, sweetheart. This isn’t like going to the doctor.”

She gave me a look. “Do I really need to come for a cleaning every six months?”

“Not up for discussion,” I said, raising my hand to stop her from going on a tangent.

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