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Halifax, October 21
6:00 p.m.
The Urban Grill was near capacity.
With a sweeping glance, Allan regarded the people there. “Good thing you called in when you did.”
Melissa voiced her wonder. “I know, right. But it is a Thursday.”
The restaurant was open and bright. Accents of creams and yellows contrasted well against the stacked-stone walls. Sputnik chandeliers hung over each table. They resembled stellar explosions—light bulbs shooting out at all different angles.
Their waitress, an amiable blonde, introduced herself as Amy. She took their coats and then led them to a round table by the windows.
“Nice chairs,” Melissa said. “They’re just like the ones Eames made in the fifties.”
Amy said, “I’ve had a few people say that. Shell chairs, I think they called them.”
Melissa nodded. “My grandparents had a pair.”
“Cool.” Amy placed menus on the table. “What can I get y’all to drink?”
Allan sat down, opened the menu. “Coffee for me, thanks.”
Melissa said, “I’ll have a glass of chardonnay.”
Amy turned to Brian. “And you, hon? What’ll you have?”
“Um...do you have chocolate milk?”
“We do. You want that?”
“Yes, please.”
“Be right back,” Amy said.
“Mmm...lobster poutine.” Allan looked over at Brian and wiggled his eyebrows at him.
Brian laughed. “What’s that?”
“Says here it’s lobster and chives chopped up in hollandaise sauce and halloumi cheese.”
“Sounds delicious,” Melissa said.
“Is that what you’re getting, Dad?”
“Nah, I might just get a burger.”
“Me too. Can I have fries with it?”
Allan said, “You can get whatever you want, son.”
Amy returned with their drinks. “Are you ready to order?”
“I’ll have the calamari,” Melissa said. “Beet salad for the side.”
Allan stirred cream into his coffee, removed the spoon. “What’s your burger of the day?”
“It’s a Greek burger. Feta cheese. Black olives. Really good.”
Allan considered Brian. “I don’t think the little man will like it. He and I will get the Kobe burger. Fries with his. Asparagus with mine.”
Amy flashed them a big grin. “Great. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Allan asked Melissa, “Excited, sweetheart?”
She swirled her wine, looked over the rim of the glass at him. “You bet. It’ll be nice to start working again.”
“We’ll have to make babysitting arrangements,” he said.
“I’ll still be able to take him to school in the mornings. I’ll see if my parents can come over in the afternoons again. Stay with him until I get home.”
Brian took a gulp of chocolate milk, held his glass above the tabletop with both hands.
“Mom,” he said, “when are you going to work?”
“Monday. Nanny and Pop-Pop might come over to babysit. Would you like that?”
“Yeah. They’re cool.”
Allan sipped his coffee, smiling at Brian’s use of the word “cool.” He first noticed him saying it when he went to Toronto for a visit. Since moving back home, Brian seemed to say it more often.
When Brian was four, he’d run around the house and shout honky wonky then erupt into giggles. He’d thought they were the funniest words in the world.
It was weird how you forgot quirky things your children used to say. Nonsensical words or phrases they made up out of nowhere.
“Did you catch any bad guys today, Dad?”
“Not today, son.”
“How come?”
“Some are harder to catch than others.”
“Wait till I get older.”
“And we become partners.” Allan gave Melissa a wink. “We’ll catch them all.”
The smile that spread across Brian’s face was his mother’s—wide and warm like a big hug.
He said, “They won’t have a chance.”
Melissa looked across the table at Allan. “What do you think of that?”
“I think we’ll make a great team. Right, little man?”
“Right, Dad. That’ll be cool.”
Allan smirked, took another sip of coffee. He cast a glance over Melissa’s shoulder to the busy traffic outside. As Melissa talked to Brian about his day at school, Allan found himself drawn to the Impark lot straight across the street. He could see Brad Hawkins there, facedown on the pavement, a pool of blood spread out beneath his mouth.
There they came again—faces, images—burrowing into his brain, unbidden and unwelcome.
Allan felt every muscle in his body tense up, his pulse begin to quicken. When he tried to focus on Melissa and Brian, he realized the edges of his vision were getting blurry.
He squeezed his eyes shut, opened them again. Propping his elbows on the table, he bounced a curled knuckle against his mouth.
“Sweetheart,” he said.
Melissa turned to him.
“Want to switch places?” he asked.
“Why? Don’t you like where you’re sitting?”
“No, no. I just thought you’d like the view of the waterfront. I’d prefer to face the restaurant.”
Melissa gave him a blank expression. “Uh, yeah. Sure. If you want.”
When Allan stood up, his legs were like jelly. He raised a hand to catch Amy’s eye from the other side of the restaurant. She came over.
“Your meals are almost ready,” she said. “Sorry for the wait.”
“Not that,” Allan said. “Can I get a rum, please? Make it a double shot.”
