Page 81 of The Lie Maker

“Scotch rocks,” Dad said to the waitress when she came over. Before I could say anything, Dad added, “He’ll have the same.”

“Sure.”

Dad grabbed two menus tucked behind the stainless steel napkin dispenser and handed me one. I opened it and stared at the items without seeing them. Still numb from what had happened, I wasn’t ready for food.

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “He was breathing when we left him. Guy like that has probably taken more hits to the head than he can remember. And when he does wake up, he’s not going to call the cops because, first of all, he won’t want to admit anyone got the drop on him, and second, if they ever found you, you’d tell them the guy was trying to kill you. No, he’s not going to do anything. If anything, we taught him a good lesson about keeping a lid on his temper.”

Dad smiled, reached over, and put his hand over mine. “Seriously.”

I looked at his hand, felt its warmth. “If you say so,” I said.

For the first time, I had a really good look at him. He looked well, color in his cheeks. A lot healthier looking than when he’d visited me several years earlier at college. He’d clearly recovered nicely from that cancer operation. I asked him how he came to be in the right place at the right time.

His face softened. “Every once in a while, I have to know how you’re doing. It’s not complicated.”

That, too, took my mind back to that college visit. His parting words had been that he’d be keeping an eye on me.

“You look good,” I said.

“Never felt better.”

“Where you working these days?”

He smiled coyly, like he knew I was pumping him for information. “Here and there,” he said. “Get bored with one thing and try another.”

“I noticed the New Hampshire plate,” I said.

Dad smiled. “I’ll bet you did.”

He could, of course, be living elsewhere. I hadn’t forgotten those extra license plates he had that first time he paid me a surprise visit.

“Any special woman in your life?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. Once in a while, I meet someone, but things don’t last. I think... I think if you’re going to spend the rest of your life with someone, you need to be straight with them. They need to know who you really are. That’s not something I want to share. You?”

“Her name’s Lana.”

“Nice name,” he said. “Got a picture?”

I got out my phone and showed him one I had taken of her in one of the swan boats in the Public Garden.

“I remember when we used to go there,” he said. “She’s a pretty one. A keeper?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“You told her?”

He didn’t have to explain. “No,” I said. “Not yet.”

“It’s not like with me. You didn’t do anything bad, although I’d understand if there were things you felt ashamed about.” His eyes seemed to dim.

When the drinks came, Dad downed his immediately and ordered another. I sipped mine. Hard liquor was never really my thing, although it did feel good going down and helped calm my nerves. We ordered some wings and fries, and when the food came we were just a guy and his dad having something to eat. Licking our fingers, trading stories.

It all felt strangely surreal. Having a meal with the man whose DNA I shared and yet I didn’t know what name he went by.

When the waitress brought the check, I grabbed it before Dad could. I wondered whether I should have hesitated, waited to see whether he paid with cash or a card. If it had been the latter, I might have snatched it up to see what name was on it.

“I got this,” I said. “Least I can do for saving my life.”

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