When I came downstairs in the morning, Tal was gone. Daddy was sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by various tools and brushes, plus my chrome toaster, the vacuum cleaner, the VCR, and an old nonfunctioning kitchen clock I’d hung on the wall for looks.
He had the back off the clock and was frowning down at it over the tops of his bifocals.
I noticed that his shirt had been freshly pressed. His slacks had a razor crease and his hair had been trimmed recently. He was even wearing new glasses—new by his standards, anyway, which meant the 1980s. Mama was better.
“Hey, shug,” he said absentmindedly. “Coffee’s made.” He nodded in the direction of the stove, where my meemaw’s old West bend percolater was bubbling away.
“What’s going on here?” I asked, gesturing toward all the appliances. “And where’s Tal?”
“Gone,” Daddy said. “Said he had some packing to do.”
I peeked out the kitchen window. The back door to the townhouse was open, and I saw Tal walk slowly out with a suitcase in each hand.
“Did he seem all right?” I asked. “Did you wake him up to check?”
“He knew his name and he could count,” Daddy said grimly. “And he seemed to understand what I’d do to him if I ever caught him so much as laying a finger on my daughter again.”
“Good,” I said, kissing the top of Daddy’s head and picking up a Baby Ben chrome alarm clock happily ticking away. “I finally slept last night, knowing you were downstairs keeping watch. Is this what you did all night?”
“Some,” Daddy said, putting down a screwdriver. “Your TV reception wasn’t too good, so I diddled with that a little bit. Then when the John Wayne movie went off, I remembered your mama wanted me to look at your toaster cord. I took a little catnap, then I just piddled around here and there.”
“Mama’s right,” I said, pouring two mugs of coffee. “You are a saint.”
He blushed a little and coughed to hide his pleasure. “That vacuum cleaner ought to pick up a little better now. I oiled it and cleaned it out real good.”
I took a sip of coffee. “Why can’t I find a man like good old Dad?”
“Hush up,” he said. He nodded in the direction of the window. “You tell Tal he had to move out?”
“I suggested he might want to,” I said.
“Or?”
“You don’t want to know,” I said.
“Try me.”
“I told him Mama would swear to the cops that she saw him hit me. And that I’d have him arrested for aggravated assault.”
“Should have done that anyway,” Daddy said.
“Even if I got him arrested, they’d let him out on bail. And next time he got liquored up he’d be right back over at my door again,” I said. “I want him gone for good. I won’t sleep right until I know he’s not looking in at my windows.”
“How you gonna make him stay away?” Daddy asked. “It’s his house. Weezie? Shouldn’t you maybe think about moving? You could come home for a while. Mama and I wouldn’t bother you. And Tal sure as hell wouldn’t either.”
I shuddered, both at the thought of moving home and at the thought of Tal.
“No,” I said finally. “I’m not running away. But thank you anyway. You were sweet to spend the night and keep me safe. And to fix everything in my house.”
He grinned. “How’s that truck running?”
“Good,” I said. “I got the new tires like you suggested. Now it’s my turn to fix something for you. How about some scrambled eggs and grits?”