Page 68 of Everything We Thought Was True
“‘The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,’ by Roberta Flack.”
Frank got warm and clammy. “It was one of our songs.” He felt himself choking up and swallowed.
Lena reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “I like knowing that the two of you had songs together once upon a time.”
He looked deep into her eyes and found an empathy there he’d never seen before. He lifted her hand to his lips and lightly kissed the back of it. She smiled warmly, her dark-blue eyes twinkling—his father’s eyes. It was always such a shock to see them reflected in Lena’s face. Just maybe, his Cricket was making her way back to him.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
LENA - SAN FRANCISCO, CA
September 2015
My dad and I flew together a week later from LAX to SFO and took a taxi to the Willow House Inn, which was smack in the middle of the Castro. After checking us in, they gave us keys to our suite, which had two separate bedrooms and a shared bathroom. We entered the suite, looked at each other, and smiled. The bright bedroom had a queen-size bed with a willow wood headboard, two large windows, an armoire, a pair of oversized armchairs, and a dresser with sherry, glasses, and chocolates waiting for us. We set down our luggage and walked into a smaller but equally charming bedroom with a queen bed, a small nightstand, a large willow wood chair, and even more windows.
“I’ll take this room,” my dad said, putting his jacket down on the chair.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. You take the other bedroom so you’re closer to the bathroom to get ready for your conference in the morning.”
“Okay, that makes sense. Thanks.”
We settled in, unpacked our suitcases, freshened up in the bathroom, and then headed out for dinner. The owners of the inn, a gay couple, recommended a restaurant down the street. After dinner, we started walking back to the inn, and my dad looked over at a clubwith music pouring out of its doors and a black-velvet rope entrance. The bouncer made eye contact with my dad, who nodded and smiled back.
My dad bumped my shoulder, pushing me toward the door. “Let’s go.”
“Where? There?” I whipped my head around, pointing to the nightclub, even though I knew what he meant.
“Yeah,” he said, grinning like a little kid. “I want to check it out.”
“I’m too old to go to a club,” I protested.Is he kidding me?I didn’t go to clubs anymore. And even if I did, I wouldn’t go with my father.
“If you’re too old, then I’m ancient.” He laughed. “Come on. It’ll be fun. We can dance.”
He knew how to get me. The ability to kill it on a dance floor was one thing I’d inherited from him. I looked longingly down the street toward our inn. Then I looked back at the club and gave a small shrug.What the hell?
He grabbed my arm and steered me toward the entrance. The bouncer greeted us with a smile and nodded at my dad again. It was like they spoke the same language.
He then turned to me. “ID, please, miss.”
“ID? Miss? Why, thank you,” I said, acting as if his job requirement were flattery.
He examined my license and handed it back to me. “Have fun.”
He winked at my dad, and at that moment, it hit me that this was a gay club. Of course. We were in the Castro.
We walked in, and it took my eyes a few minutes to adjust to the dark, bluish-tinted lighting. There were lots of men at the bar, standing around and drinking. Men of every size, in various forms of dress—and some undress—packed the dance floor, shaking, moving, and gyrating like one gigantic mass. I was the only woman in theentire place, from what I could see. That made me feel kind of special in a bizarre way, like I was being granted admission to a private club.
“Come on, let’s go.” Dad grabbed my arm and led me onto the dance floor. “I love this song,” he said, shaking his hips to the beat. It was “Enjoy the Silence,” by Depeche Mode—a throwback to the ’90s. I loved it too.
I was nervous. Even though I loved to be in the spotlight—performing in high school theater and now in the courtroom with a judge or jury and spectators—I felt very much on display.
“Relax,” my dad whispered into my ear and then pulled his face back so he could look at me.
He was smiling, and I realized he didn’t mean it to reprimand me. He was trying to put me at ease. I looked around again and noticed that everyone was dancing, laughing, and very much enjoying themselves. No one seemed to notice me or care that I was the only woman there.
I felt my shoulders relax, and I started swaying to the music. We were moving in rhythm, shaking our hips in time to the beat, showing off our fancy dance moves. We were smiling, clapping our hands, and laughing so hard sometimes that we would throw our heads back.
