Keane arrived in less time than Lena would have guessed, coming all the way from the Financial District.
“Did you fly here?” she asked when he suddenly came around the side of her father’s store, walking so fast, she could actually see the limp in his gait from wearing a prosthetic. He also carried something that looked like a sleek black leather manicure case.
“Parked around back,” he answered, laser focusing on the lock.
“Lucky your dad cheaped out on this shitty lock. If it’d been anything with electronics, I would have had to call in one of my tech boys. But I can handle this.”
Yes, he could…
Lena watched him unzip a manicure case with an arsenal of small tools. He pulled out two long thin silver ones with different heads, then quickly got to work, deftly manipulating the lock. This was so illegal, and she had to wonder why he’d committed this skill set to muscle memory in the first place. But she couldn’t help but feel impressed when the door opened, with less than a minute of work on his part.
“Thank you!” she said, meaning it. “I really appreciate it. I’ll take it from here.”
But instead of going, Keane followed her into the store, like she’d invited him.
She knew it would be bad as soon as she stepped in. The store had been a bit of a mess when she last saw it. Filled with various detritus and dust bunnies that had hidden for years under and behind heavy shelves.
But even though there was no longer any merchandise or fixtures in the store, the shop gleamed. All the dust was gone and the smell of cleaning products hung heavy the air.
“Wow, your dad cleaned up for a demolition? Never seen that before.”
Neither had she. She rushed toward the backroom.
“Seriously, you should go,” she threw over her shoulder at Keane. “He’s a very proud man and he’s not going to want anyone to see him this way.”
Thankfully, she didn’t hear the sound of Keane’s footsteps behind her as she pushed through the backroom’s door. But the scene in here was even more horrific.
Her father, her neat freak father, who she’d never seen outside his daily uniform of a short sleeved shirt and wrinkle proof slacks, sat watching TV on his 90s era console dressed in nothing but a dirty wife beater and boxing shorts. The bed was unmade. And there were pizza boxes scattered all around him along with several empty bottles of beer.
Despite his poor dietary choices, Lena could now see he was little more than skin and bones with a caved chest and arms that resembled sticks. Had he always been this thin? Or was this sadness about losing his store? Guilt washed over her for rushing off to live in Keane’s multi-million-dollar Back Bay Victorian double brownstone, while her father suffered in the back room of his soon to be demolished store.
“Leave me, Lena,” he said, as soon as he saw her standing at the door. “I want to die. I want to die with my store.”
“Oh, Dad…” Lena hurried over to him and dropped to her knees beside the bean bag he was using for a chair. “Dad, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you. I didn’t realize how much you were suffering. But I’m here now. I’m going to take you home.”
“No! No!” He pushed away her hands and flapped his thin arms “This is my home. I will die here.”
“Oh, Dad…” An intense wave of sadness washed over her on her father’s behalf. “Please, realize this pain is temporary. It will hurt when they tear down the store, but then you’ll get through it. I promise.”
His sad eyes suddenly narrowed, his expression going from sorrowful to ugly. “You also promised to become a doctor, and how did this turn out?”
She reared back. Unable to believe such spiteful words were coming out of her father’s mouth. But then she realized. “Dad, you’re drunk. We need to get you home.”
“No, I won’t go home, I won’t—” her father started to say, but then his eyes suddenly popped horror wide and he asked, “What are you doing here?”
At first Lena thought the alcohol was confusing him, addling his mind, along with turning him mean. But then she followed the direction of his gaze over her shoulder.
Keane. Crap, he’d followed her into the backroom and was now standing in the doorway. Large as a Boston winter in his gray business suit. This was the last thing she needed while trying to bring her father out of his highly agitated state. But she kept her cool, for her father’s sake. “Dad, I’m sorry. I had to ask someone to help me get in here after you changed the locks. This is—”
“He knows who I am,” Keane informed her before she could finish the introduction.
“What do you mean he knows who you are?” she asked, confused alarm bells going off in her head, since she’d gone out of her way to make sure Keane and her father never met that summer.
“C’mon, Kumar. Time to get you home,” Keane said, instead of answering her questions.
“No! No! I’m not going to be dragged out of my store by the demon who bought it.”
“All right, fireman carry it is,” Keane answered, heaving the older man up and slinging him over his shoulders, like he weighed nothing. Probably because he did.
Lena ended up following them out of the little back room in a complete daze.
What did her father mean by “demon who bought my store?”
She soon found out, thanks to her father railing against Keane all the way out to his car, which he’d thankfully parked in back.
“I should have never taken your demon deal! I should have known you were using me to get to my daughter!”
It didn’t take much to piece together what had happened. Obviously DGK, not some nameless conglomerate was the one responsible for paying her father a full seven figures over what his store was worth on paper to give up his precious business.
“Keane…?” she started after he all but shoved her dad in the back of his Range Rover, buckled him in, and engaged the child locks, so he couldn’t get out.
“Get in the car,” he answered before she could finish asking. “We don’t have time for this. We need to get the car moving before he gets any bright ideas about trying to get out through the front seat.”
He was right. With nervous eyes on her father, who was currently yanking at the Rover’s backdoor lock, she slid into the passenger seat.
Fortunately, her father stopped trying to get out after the car started, but he turned his wrathful stare on Keane. “You found out, didn’t you? You found out about my grandchild.”
“Sure did,” Keane answered, with no inflection in his voice whatsoever as he navigated the car through Dorchester’s busy mid-day traffic.
Lena’s eyes widened and her heart lurched. “Wait, you knew about Max, too, Dad. But I never…”
“Yes, you hid that from me. Just like you hid it from this demon. But I guessed when Max grew so tall. I knew this could not be Rohan’s child, then.”
“Oh, Dad…” she said for a third time, unable to wrap her head around her father knowing all this time.
“So both of you decided not to tell me I had a son,” Keane said, gripping the steering wheel so tight she could see the white of his knuckles.
Meanwhile her father spiraled from angry to despondent in the backseat. “I am sorry for taking the demon’s money, my Lena,” he said with tears in his eyes. “He is still angry over what happened when he actually thought I would give him permission to have you. He came knocking on my door, you know. And I told him what he was—a summer dalliance, somebody my daughter was only using until Rohan came to his senses. I did not know it was him who offered me more money than I could have ever imagined for my store. I did not know it was him until he came in after my contract signing. So smug about tricking me into giving him the thing I held dearest. But even then I took comfort. It is all right, I told myself. At least he does not know about Max, and he will never know, I vowed to myself. But now everything is ruined for you because of me, beti. And my store…it’s gone!”
With that, her father broke down into piteous tears into the backseat. Oh God…
Lena couldn’t bear to see her father crying. And even though there was still so much to process about what he’d just said, she reached back to stroke his knobby knee as best she could. “It’s alright, Abba. It’s alright. It’s not your fault. I love you. I forgive you. Please don’t cry!”