The Better Half(39)
For all his efficiency, Fitzroy is no busybody, so being all up in my Saturday morning business is out of character. “This is what I do on Saturday mornings when Xandra’s at school and you’re at the gym, I catch up on work from the week, in bed.”
“Eh, so this is what people your age call ‘working from home’?” Fitzroy accuses and rubs his hands together before getting to work making my bed with me in it. “Some friends from the Y are coming over this morning. We’re switching it up today. Gonna play dominoes in the morning and get our exercise in this afternoon. By the time they get here you better be up and properly dressed.” I roll my lower lip out in a pout. “And swipe some lipstick on those lips. Pretend like you got a smile on your face.” Since Mom died, Dad’s been playing both parents for me and Clive. He was clearly paying attention to Mom for decades, because believe it or not, his beauty tips are often spot on. Or maybe he’s actually been listening to Chaco Taco’s self-care talk all these years.
“Oh, Dad, your buddies don’t care a lick what I look like. Half of them can’t even see. I’ll just stay back here, and no one has to know I’m home.”
“No, you will not!” Dad says sharply and swipes at me to get me out of bed so he can fold my sheets into hospital corners.
“All right, all right, I’m moving. I’ll get dressed and head out to a coffee shop to work while your game’s going on. You’re wound tight this morning. Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed?” I accuse and head toward the bathroom.
“You’ll do no such thing. I’ve worked hard to arrange this morning, and the good Lord willing my prayers will be heard. I know you’ve met Earvin and Billy, but they haven’t seen you in quite some time.”
When Mom died, Clive and I worried that Dad would be lonely, the two of them spent every night together their half century of marriage. And during Fitzroy’s first couple of solo visits to come see me and Xandra, I thought we were going to have to entertain him every waking moment. But with his gym membership in hand, Dad’s bus driver sociability kicked in as a survival skill, and now his friend group in Pasadena is bigger than mine. His effort to keep me close by is piquing my interest.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Dad, but you’re acting all kinds of crazy. Are you crushing on someone?” I tease like we’re elementary school besties.
“Ah, get on out of here,” Dad says. Then to the sky directs, “Celia, darling, what do you think of this nonsense your daughter’s stirring up?”
“Dad, it’s early in heaven too. Mom’s probably still sleeping.”
“Either way, Nina, if you believe in love, then you better stick around.”
I follow Dad’s request without further fuss and put on the robin’s-egg blue dress he bought me for my fortieth birthday. Dad likes the dress because the neckline is high, and I like it because the hemline is also high. It has a kind of Black Jackie O. vibe and highlights my legs, which are the only feature of my pregnancy bod holding steady. I put on my fresh hoops to add a modern hint to the dress’s vintage vibe. It actually feels good to be put together and ready to take on the day.
“Now that’s what I like to see, Nina, a woman dressed as a woman should be dressed to greet gentlemen in her home. There’s no need to parade around in that second skin with your business hanging out.”
“For the hundredth time, Dad, they’re called yoga pants.” We have this conversation about once a month and always near Xandra’s birthday when she wants a new pair of Lululemons.
“I’ve never seen you do yoga. I like this much better.” Dad grabs my left shoulder and spins me around for final approval. “You look pretty, Nina. Would you mind heading into the kitchen and putting together a few snacks for the boys? Nothing fancy. Oh, I think I hear someone coming up the front steps.” Couldn’t Dad have asked me to do his catering when I was still in my comfy pj’s? And what kind of snacks do you serve a couple of old men at nine in the morning anyway? They don’t seem like a sliced fruit kind of bunch.
“Sure.” I hesitate. This is the first time my dad has offered to host dominoes, so I want to help make sure it goes off without a hitch and his buddies have a good time. But when I made my coffee earlier this morning, the folding table and chairs hadn’t moved from the garage, and the kitchen is still untouched. Something other than Dad’s fussing is most definitely up. I take a few extra minutes in the kitchen to nose around for some clues before I throw a snack tray together.
AHA! Dad’s laptop, open to Expedia, is plugged in at my kitchen desk. I look at his recent search history and see he’s been on several travel websites in the past week. Is Dad going home? Is he taking a big step and finally joining an organized trip for seniors? He’s always wanted to go to Italy.
“DAD, I need to talk to you for a minute. IN PRIVATE!” I holler, heading toward the living room, sans snacks, ready to snatch my dad away from his company for a round of What the heck is going on here?
I stop fast in my tracks. Fitzroy is standing in the middle of my living room looking terribly pleased with himself, and next to him is Leo. Touché, Dad. The opinions I thought you were holding close to your chest about the baby, you just laid them out pretty for me to see.
“I’m off to the Y, then. The boys are all in a lather wanting to know if I was able to pull this surprise off,” Dad says, collecting his gym bag from where it was hidden behind the curtains. “You two have a lot to catch up on and discuss. I hope you’ll be joining us for dinner, Leo, I look forward to getting to know you better. I think we need to treat you to a good ol’ American cheeseburger. Nina, you up for grilling?” Dad insists in the form of a question, patting Leo confidently on the back. His cunning ways keep on coming.