September 1981
The sun was up bright and early. I stood by the birdbath, kicking a pine cone, squinting. I’d just learned how to squint—had seen a boy doing it at school, screwing up his face in the sunshine and I thought it looked cool so had tried it, liked it.
Daddy had left the car running in the driveway, the smell of gasoline in the air. I wished he would hurry up. I only had on my stripy top and corduroy trousers. Daddy said it would be warm out, but he didn’t say anything about me standing outside here for half an hour.
Squinting up at the house, I strained my ears above the noise of the engine to hear what they were saying. Mommy was yelling, again. Daddy didn’t seem to be saying anything much.
I waited, kicking the pine cone all the way to the hedge and back, and by the time I was near the car, there was Daddy, grinning at me as he darted to the car. “Come on! Get in the Batmobile!”
I ran to my side of the car, tugging the seat belt. “If I’m Batman, shouldn’t I be driving?”
He slapped my leg as we took off up the leafy lane. “All in good time. One day, you’ll have everything. The Batmobile and all of Gotham City.”
Daddy said that a lot. It made me smile, but afterward I always felt a bit funny because I knew he meant that one day I would have everything because he wouldn’t be here.
“Where are we going?” I asked, the trees flashing past the window, branches lashing the glass.
“Wait and see. But I think you’re gonna like it.”
I pressed the buttons on the radio. “Tainted Love” was playing. Daddy loved this song, turned it up so loudly it felt daring. I tapped my foot to the beat, squinting out the window.
When the song ended, I turned down the volume, looked at him. He hadn’t shaved yet today—had dark shadows over his chin that made him look like a criminal, a good one. “Is Mommy okay?”
“’Course. Why wouldn’t she be?” And he turned the radio up again.
We drove for six songs and a newsreel and then we were going along a road that smelled expensive. Daddy had taught me how to get a nose for these things. I was worried it would mean my nose would grow too big, but he said I was being a silly Billy. I was keeping an eye on my nose though, just in case.
“Here we are,” he said, pulling up alongside the curb, stopping the engine. “Ocean View Road.” He got out of the car; I did the same, excitement fizzing in my tummy. No matter what we did, it was always exciting. “So, what do you think?”
I couldn’t see anything at the moment—was too small. There were tall walls everywhere. But I liked the cherry blossoms growing at the side of the road, even though they were thin and had straps to hold them up.
“Thought you’d like them,” he said. “Someday, they’ll be big and strong, just like you.” He directed me across the road, stopping at the entrance of a building site that said DANGER DO NOT ENTER.
Even though it was early, I could hear voices. Sure enough, the cement mixer was turning. Beside it, a large man in a checked shirt was lifting shovels from the back of his van. “Morning, boss,” he shouted, tipping his helmet.
“All right, mate?” Daddy raised his hand in greeting and then ran up the steps to the portable cabin, which creaked and wobbled. “Follow me, kiddo.”
I was kiddo here in front of the men, never Batman. But that was okay. I’d already learned that adults had names that no one else used, faces no one else saw.
Inside the portable cabin, it smelled of old coffee. I wrinkled my nose as Daddy put a helmet on my head, adjusting the chin strap. It had never fit, but I was used to holding my head a certain way so that it wouldn’t fall off.
Then we stood looking at the site, his hand on my shoulder. “Number twenty-three. What a beaut.”
I knew he was talking about the potential—the future, what it might look like sometime soon. So I told him I loved it, even though it was mostly rubble. But beyond the piles of dirt was the sea. And the air was so fresh I could fry it for breakfast. I could imagine a family here—laundry, the smell of suds, a football lying in the leaves.
“We’re going to do something special today,” he said, taking my hand, leading me toward the foundations.
“Are we?” My heart fluttered. I wondered what it could be. We’d done a lot of things over the years. I had seen every house he had ever developed. He had included me in everything and one day I would run his company. What could top that?
At the verge of the stumpy brick wall, we watched three men on their knees, cementing the ground with tools like huge cake slices. It always made me hungry. Daddy picked up a tool and joined in. I sat cross-legged on the floor for a while, listening to the men talking about things I wasn’t very interested in. There was a caterpillar on my shoe, which I took over to the hedge; otherwise not much happened.
Then he told the men to take a break and beckoned me over. “Time to leave our mark,” he said.
I wasn’t sure what he meant so I copied what he was doing, leaning on the edge, pressing his hand onto the cement.
As I held my hand on the cold gloopy mixture, the sun came out, hitting our hair, our skin.
“There you go. Now there’ll always be a part of us here, you and me.”
We had left two perfect imprints, his hand next to mine. He stood up, pulling me up so I could stand without putting my hand on my clothes. “Now let’s get this washed off.”
I skipped happily alongside him, looking over my shoulder. “Will it always be there, Daddy?”
“Yep,” he replied, stopping to kiss the top of my forehead. “Always.”
Inside the portable cabin, there was someone there now. A woman with bright rusty hair and a blouse that was unbuttoned too much or too tight. I didn’t want to stare so I couldn’t tell which. “Hello there,” she said, jumping up the moment she saw me and squeezing my cheek.
I was ten years old, not three. I put my hands on my hips, squinted.
“You must be Gabriella.”
“It’s Gabrielle,” Daddy said, ruffling my hair.
I don’t know if it was my property developer nose or my imagination, but something felt wrong. I couldn’t say what. I picked up Daddy’s rubber band ball that he had grown for years, holding it in my hand. “Do you work here?” I asked.
“Well, no, not really!” She laughed, fixing her handbag on her shoulder. It was one of those leopard skin ones. I couldn’t see Mommy ever having one like that.
“Then what—?”
“Why don’t you go on outside and wait for me?” Daddy said, opening the door. I felt the breeze touch my shirt, fluttering the paperwork on his desk.
“Okay.” I shrugged, did as I was told.
Outside, I sat on the steps, realizing that I was still holding the rubber band ball. I bounced it on the step a few times, noticing that it was covered in chalky gray dust. It was from my hand: I forgot to wash it. I could get cement burns! Once, one of the workmen had to go to the hospital.
Running back up the steps, I burst in. “Daddy, I—”
The rusty woman had her hand on his jeans. She jumped away at the sight of me, as did Daddy, bumping into his desk, knocking over a cup of tea. “Damn it!” he yelled, as it poured all over his paperwork, dripping onto the floor. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
“It’s okay, Robin… Don’t shout at her.” Rusty grabbed a roll of tissue paper, unraveling a chunk of it, dropping it onto the carpet, rubbing at it with her heel. She was wearing stilettos that ripped at the paper. Anyone could see that it wasn’t working.
I ran forward to help. “I can fix that.”
To my surprise, Daddy pushed me away. “You’ve already done enough!”
I lost my balance, falling backward onto the floor with a bump. Gazing up at him, I waited for him to ask if I was hurt, to say sorry, but he was too busy saving his paperwork.
I began to cry, still holding the rubber band ball, the cement so stiff on my hand now it was starting to ache. “I just wanted to wash my hand, Daddy.”
He stared at me with a funny expression. Dropping the handful of tissue, he came to me, falling to his knees, drawing me into his arms. “I’m sorry, kiddo,” he said, wiping my tears.
I was pleased, confused. I didn’t know what he’d really done that was all that wrong, other than pushing me away, but it was my fault that I’d caught my leg on the chair, not his. “It’s all right. I know you didn’t mean it.”
“Let me see your hand,” he said, prying the ball from my fist, inspecting my palm. It was starting to burn, tingle. He hurried me to the sink, standing me on a crate so I could reach the tap.
He worked on my hand for a long time, using cold water that made me shiver, and then he poured white vinegar on it that reminded me of fish-and-chips, and used a toothbrush to go along the lines in my hand. I never knew there were so many of them. I could smell his sweat, mixed with deodorant.
“What about you, Daddy?” I asked, when he was patting my hand with a towel.
“Don’t you worry about me.” But I made him wash his hand too.
When we were done, all clean, I noticed that Rusty had gone. He didn’t seem all that fussed about it.
As we were leaving the site, I wanted to go over to the foundations again and see our handprints, which cheered me up. One of the workmen gave me half a Kit Kat too, even better. “One day, all this will be yours, Batman,” Daddy said, as we got back into the car.
There was a blister in the middle of my palm, but I didn’t say anything about it. We stopped for ice creams on the way home, even though it was breakfast time. As I pulled a chocolate flake from the top of my soft-serve cone, Daddy unwrapped a cigar, tapping the end.
I had listened to everything he had ever told me, learned every trick, so that one day I could be just like him. So I could read his mind now, just like he could read mine. He didn’t have to tell me what he was about to say. I would show him how smart I was and beat him to it. “It’s okay, Daddy,” I said. “I promise I won’t say anything.”
To my surprise, he didn’t look all that pleased. He lit his cigar, gazed up at the sky as though looking for someone up there. I didn’t ask why. The sun was coming out strong and my ice cream was beginning to drip. Maybe he was worried about that. So I carried on licking my ice cream, kicking my feet against the wall, while Daddy puffed on his cigar. And then, he blew smoke rings up into the bright blue sky, just for me.