“I’ll have to talk with him. I’m not at all sure when.”
“He’s gotta know something is up. Could he come to you?”
“Maybe you’re right.” Kandace swam laps and tried to clear her mind. Her dad woke up around four and offered to take her out on a dinner date. April vouched to hold down the fort and order takeout.
Kandace steamed her dress in the washing machine while she showered and took her time doing makeup and hair. She aimed to impress as she worked her lashes and watched a video on YouTube to get them just right. She thought about taking a blue pill—just one to take out the nerves and anxiety she felt as her mind raced from fear to fear. But would she still be herself?
She had waited for so long for this time with her Dad, this evening. She’d envisioned it many times when she’d been lonely.
Was she good enough?
Slipping on the dress, she felt beautiful. Ready. Was she Kandace, or was she Autumn? Was the little girl Kandace and the confident woman in the mirror actually Autumn?
Her father had cleaned up, sporting light colored slacks and a jacket, golf polo, and strangely making Kandace think of the sharply dressed men at the LA club she’d met the night before. “You look lovely, K,” he said when he saw her emerge from the bedroom. He held her hand as they walked out front. He held the door open to his vintage Mustang. The restored engine purred to life as they glided down East Ocean, her view of the sea and the beach flittered between hotels and condominiums. The Beatles played Come Together and her dad sang along on key. He took her to Parker’s Lighthouse and they sat outside on the patio. Gas heaters adjacent to blue umbrella-covered white tables, a view of the harbor, as the sun was setting.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“This is magical. Are those cruise ships way out there?”
He smiled back, his attention skimming past smaller boats, over the harbor. “I think so.”
The restaurant was shaped like a two-floor boat in the main dining room, big windows, table cloths and glass centerpieces, all made grand by a view of the harbor. A gentle wind off the sea. The setting sun, holding perfectly above the far edge of the world, was deep orange.
After they got a seat by the water, she watched the harbor and said, “We should go on a cruise. All of us.” I could only hope.
“That could be nice.”
Kandace watched him sitting across from her at a table for two, beside the bay, sharing a sunset. “You know what I miss most? I miss those days when you were home and you stayed awhile. Back then, I never wondered where you went for work.” She turned her attention back to her father. “I just figured you would always come home.”
He made a stoic expression. “If I worked less and had been home more, you wouldn’t have cared about my job?”
Kandace shrugged. “I wanted you around, that’s all.”
He sat forward, arms resting on the table. “You were so much younger then.”
“So? You could have involved me instead of shutting me out.”
“I do cook.”
Kandace rolled her eyes. “Dad, c’mon. That's not fair.”
He became a little somber, perhaps sentimental, but hardly enough for Kandace to feel like he had remorse for the past. “Well, I’ve decided… our arrangement must change.”
I can’t handle worse. Don’t tell me if it’s worse.
“Okay,” she watched as the sun touched the side of his face, “that’s news to me.”
“This morning changed everything.”
Don’t get excited. “Okay… how?”
“How… well you’ve matured in my absence. I can’t stand missing more.”
Kandace tilted her head, studying his eyes, the muscles around his mouth, his brow. “Just tell me the truth.”
He raised an eyebrow and took longer than Kandace liked and her mind ran wild, worrying about what he would say next. She knew he hadn’t talked to her mother, so he couldn’t know about the VW yet. Or her new job—it was on her to tell him.
“I’m doing the best I can, K,” he said, his lips puckered. “Yes, you found me. And it’s not that I wanted to be away as long as I have, but in my defense, that was the nature of this project. That said, I’d like to enjoy time off with you.” His smile conveyed caring, but also reservation.
Kandace grinned back but she wanted to laugh. Or cry. She wasn’t sure. This dinner date was everything she ever envisioned, yet she didn’t feel right. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
“I realize I need to be more involved, which is difficult.”
Her heart beat faster. “Wouldn’t it be easier to move us here?”
Please say yes.
His attention turned to the bay, boats moving slowly in and out of the harbor. “I don’t think moving would help.”
“It’s not like we have to live right on the beach.”
“Oh. Sure. Thanks. I’m glad your expectations aren’t so high,” he said and winked.
“You’re welcome. But you’re forgetting that I help out with expenses.”
Oh shit. I shouldn’t have said that.
“About money… your mother emailed me about your new car insurance and she mentioned that you and me have a significant development to discuss.”
Kandace’s lips twisted.
“Okay,” she said.
“That new VW with Nevada temporary tags is yours, not April’s.”
Kandace’s shoulders dropped as she slouched on the seat and wanted to squirm under the table. She considered running away. Shit. I can’t tell him now. “Yeah. It’s safe, reliable—”
“Kandace, it’s time that you were honest with me. I’m waiting to hear how you can afford a new car. And I know I won’t like your answer. Your mother made me promise I won’t erupt.”
“How was she doing?”
He grinned. “Nice try. Let’s have it.”
Distracted by the waves and birds around the harbor, Kandace watched the world and tried not to cry, not to scream, not to run away. It was all she could do to remain seated.
I’m so, so not ready for this. Not in a public place. Not to his face.
“Dad… because I love you… I don’t think right now is the best time.” She shook her head. “I’m just not ready.”
Some things are best kept secret.
He sat back, clearly befuddled. “Your mother refused to tell me. She said you had to. Whatever it is, neither of you want to confess… and frankly, how you can suddenly afford a new car, fancy clothes and designer swimwear scares the shit out of me.”
“Fantastic….” Kandace said. How can I stall? “Don’t you love the car? I mean, seriously. It has a moonroof.”
“Kandace. Just tell me and get it over with.”
“Fine.” She stared at her water glass. “I started stripping.”
Breathe. Don’t say another word. Let him answer.
He didn’t speak for a long time. When Kandace lifted her chin, he sat still, as though frozen in time.
“Dad? Will you say something?”
The calamari arrived, a portion large enough for four people, heaped high in a large white bowl. It sat like a wall between them.
Her father avoided eye contact, as though he were mentally distant, then his voice cracked as he spoke. “Kandace… what can I say to you?”
“That you still love me. That I matter to you.” Kandace waited, afraid her voice would crack as well if she said anything more. Or words wouldn’t come at all. This was his chance to respond. To reassure her that no matter what—she was his.
“I do love you. And I think I need a drink," he said.
Not quite.
He cleared his throat and continued, “Kandace, I know you’re disappointed with me.”
“Understatement of the century,” Kandace cut in.
He waved his hands, they passed each other over the table. “How long, Kandace? How long ago did you start?”
“I was stranded in St. Louis. Kyle left me. I had, like, no money, no idea wh
at to do. I met April at the bus stop and she introduced me around, made me feel comfortable. I decided to try it for one night."
“Kyle left you?”
“Yes.”
“In god’s name why?”
“Because of his mother. She called him home.”
He brightened a little. “It was just one night? But you couldn't have earned that much. Not in one night. Not for a car.”
Kandace hesitated, and he became impatient. “At first, it was supposed to be the one night. Make travel money and leave, fly to LA. But I hadn’t heard from you. I didn’t know where you were, where you lived…”
“Don’t blame me,” he said.
“I’m not, Dad. What I was getting to is, I liked April and the job, the money. People were nice. I wanted to stay. I knew people wanted me there and I couldn’t say the same about anywhere else.”
“Kandace, think for a minute. They are exploiting you. Your value to them is only so long as you make them money. Once the money stops, they are done with you. And they won’t care what happens to you. Don’t you see that?”
“I need money for college. Mom needs money at home. I can’t keep working part time at a dance studio and pay my expenses.”
“I’d said to wait a year on school. Figure out where you want to go, what you want to study.”
“What you really mean is wait forever.”
He rolled his eyes and rubbed his head. “It’s a season, K. It’s temporary. You’ll go to college.”
“When? Mom’s medical eats up all the money each month. At least if I’m dancing I can pay for school.”
“Don’t tell me that you plan to keep selling yourself. You can’t ever get the real you back.”
Kandace looked away from him, at people having pleasant conversation at other tables. Romantic candlelight dinners. A group singing “Happy Birthday” to a lovely young woman who looked about Kandace’s age. How different did her life look?
She put her face in her hands and spoke through her fingers. “I don’t want to spend all our time fighting. For. Real.”
“I am working real hard at being civil, Kandace.”
Should she just leave? Don’t look back?
He seemed resigned. “Where did you dance? What clubs?”
“Fine. You tell me one country you worked in and I’ll give you a club name.”
He smiled, but he wasn’t laughing. “I’m serious.”
Kandace tried the calamari, which were still warm, crispy, salty. The marinara had a spicy kick. She felt like she could eat anything, non-stop. When she kept eating and didn’t say anything, her father watched and remained surprisingly calm.
“Bosnia. Your turn.”
Kandace stopped. “You were in… shit. For real? Okay… The Palace.”
“The Palace? That in St. Louis? Near the water?”
“Yes and yes.” How does he know that?
“Did you dance anywhere else? Other clubs?”
“Yeah,” Kandace said.
“Where?”
“That’ll cost you another country.”
“Dammit Kandace, this isn’t a game. You might think this is cute, but it’s not.”
“Fine. I danced at Jaguar in Las Vegas. And The Jungle in LA. And I need to payoff my car and pay for college. And Mom needed five thousand two hundred for rehab which wasn’t there, so I paid that, thank you very much.” She slowly crunched calamari, its legs hanging out of her mouth for effect.
He stared at her a moment. “You danced here? In LA? And Las Vegas?”
“Yeah.”
“And April dances with you, I gather.”
“Right again. Did you bring me here just to grill me and tell me I'm doing my life all wrong?”
“I didn’t plan on it. Your mother didn’t prepare me for this.”
Kandace held up her hands, half eaten calamari between her fingers. “What did you expect?” She finished him off and chose another from the mound.
He scratched at his face and looked around. “Honestly, I thought you’d swiped your mother’s pain meds and sold them.”
Kandace’s mouth went slack for a moment. “And that’s somehow better?”
“No, but at least it’s… Kandace, when you were abandoned in St. Louis, you didn’t have many choices. But that would have been one night and while I don’t like it, I could… sympathize with that decision because you were in a tight spot and I know that’s partially my fault. But you’ve gone and made this a little career. And that’s not acceptable.”
“You’re handling this much better than I thought.”
He shook his head. “You want money for college and I understand, your friends are all in college. But if you keep on dancing, I won’t be okay. I mean that, Kandace. I’m playing along because I realize I’m partly to blame and that hurts more than you know.”
Their server appeared at the table, and Kandace put on a happy face for the woman. “Were you ready to order?” she asked.
Kandace eyed her father a moment. “I’m ready. Dad?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
27
The agreement to talk about pleasant things until entrees arrived was Kandace’s idea for truce; she was thankful the kitchen was slow. The calamari had been enormous, and more than enough to stave off hunger—stress eating mostly.
They talked about happy memories, places and events. About Pittsburgh. About times they remembered fondly. Parks and swings, walks and canoe rides in the summer. Sledding down random hills after a big snowfall no one else wanted to drive anywhere in. How the perfect snowball is fairly wet, for solid packing.
“So… about Kyle,” John said. “Why did he leave you in St. Louis?”
I don’t want to talk about Kyle. “Because his mother called.”
“No offer to take you home? That seems peculiar.”
“How are the scallops?”
“They are amazing,” he said. “Just like your ahi tuna.”
“I’m tired of fighting. Can we pretend this is a date? For a little while? You missed my graduation and my prom dress.”
He paused, his eyes darted toward other diners. “We are on a date.”
“I’ve never been on a date with so much arguing.”
“Just wait until you get married, dear. Now, Kyle… focus… what happened?”
Kandace groaned and picked at her cucumber salad. “He had a discussion of sorts with his mother, and that was that. He was going home. I had to get to California, find you. I seriously thought I was protecting you from a madman and feel like a total fool for chasing you out here. How’s that?”
His fork stopped in mid-air, a seared scallop pierced in the tines. “I know. I’m sorry about all that. But my observation is that Kyle wasn’t abandoning you. He was doing what he was told and you were choosing to stay, even though you didn’t have any money to live on. You put yourself in dire straits.”
“Dad, do you have any idea how insensitive that sounds to me?”
“Don’t raise your voice,” he said.
She set her fork haphazardly on the plate’s edge, her eyes fixed on him. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. I can support myself now.”
He tried a calmer tone. “Kandace, honey. I’m on your side.”
“Mom said the same thing, but she meant it.”
“Your mother lets you… how did she phrase it, discover your own path.”
“Yes. Mom has respected my point of view. She doesn’t question me about Kyle. She doesn’t question me about dancing. She lets me live my life. She gives advice, but she knows I’m in control.”
“Your mother’s parents were strict. She gives you total freedom because she thinks that is how best to let you learn. You have no idea what club life will cost until it’s too late.”
“Dancing isn’t long term. It’s a means to an end. Pay for school. Pay for a car. Then I’m done. If you won’t pay for my school, then I have to take care of myself. It’s that simple.”
“Your mom’s hos
pital bills are in dispute with the insurance company. It’s not that tight at home.”
“You’re forgetting her prescriptions, Dad. Those are at least three grand every month. Sometimes four or five.”
He made a face as though he didn’t believe her. “Not a chance.”
“You have no idea, do you?”
“Kandace, they can’t be that expensive.”
“Dad, for your information, she’s taking some serious pain meds, that’s why she’s mentally gone most of the time,” Kandace said, pushing her hair aside. “How else do you expect me to go to college?”
“If you plan to pay for college, that means years. It’s been what, a week? K, you’ve got a very small sample to make such a big decision.”
She shrugged. “Dad, you know I’ve always wanted to make money dancing. I’m sorry, but I like it. I don’t see anything wrong with what I’m doing and I get paid well.”
He shook his head. “Sooner or later, you won’t be able to support yourself by dancing. Then what?”
“Are you saying you won’t be supportive, Dad? That you can’t…”
“You don’t understand how hard to stomach this choice is. I can’t even fathom how we got here.”
“I can,” she said. “You weren’t home. No money for anything for me, no money for school. Pretty easy, actually.”
He sat back and seemed hurt. He showed a little emotion, which for him, was considerable. “I’ve said… I realize I need to be home.”
“How? Until it happens, it’s just words.”
“I’m sorting that out with your mother.”
“Why not just fly back to Pittsburgh for a while?”
“I don’t have enough time off.”
Nothing has changed. He’s not coming home.
“Let’s talk about something else. Please?” Kandace said.
He watched boats on the water, their lights shining against dusk, shadows cast on the water. “It’s a beautiful view. I’m sorry to spoil it.”
“Yeah. Me too. Dessert needs way better conversation.”
After dinner, they walked around Shoreline Village, the touristy shopping center near the restaurant. They wandered in boutique souvenir shops and acted silly together. They took a carousel ride. Kandace beat him twice at Skee-ball, but was destroyed three straight games at air hockey. They just did things and didn’t talk about anything. She knew he wanted to get his frustrations off his chest—she wanted his love and acceptance. They agreed to keep their opinions to themselves for the moment.
Goodbye, Good Girl Page 26