I get up early the next day. Our neighbors are moving and they need some help with the hide-a-bed. Anthony says his back is bothering him so he can’t do it. A week ago that would have driven me crazy, but now—who cares? I’m going to be gone soon.
The husband and I manage to get the couch out, but there’s still a pile of boxes to move so I help with those too.
I get home around eleven. I’m craving a raspberry slushie, but I pour myself a glass of water instead. Tara works next door to the convenience store. I don’t need a slushie that bad.
I suck back two glasses of water and decide to call Christie. No point wasting any more time.
Christie’s surprised about Tara and me, but after I explain the situation, she doesn’t hesitate. We’re going for dinner Thursday at the Nectar House. I’m going to have a good job soon. I can afford to take her someplace nice.
If Tara gets upset about that, too bad. She was the one who didn’t think it was a good idea for me to get a real job. She was the one who left.
I pull off my sweaty clothes and get in the shower. I make a mental list of things I have to do before I leave.
That boat ride with Dad.
Some quality time with the little kids, especially Olivia. She’s been hanging off me ever since that dinner.
I also want to have one last gig with the band. Riley texted me last night. Jasper’s cousin’s a decent guitar player and said he’d step in for me. The guys are apparently ready to forgive me after all.
I’ve got this idea for a song that I want to try out before I go. It’s called “B Negative.” It’s still just a rough concept, but I think there’s something there. The basic idea is that I’ve made this big life decision and everyone is, like, be-ing negative about it except me.
The funny thing is that I’m the one with the-B negative blood. Dr. Wallace said something about B negative being perfectly good, just unusual, and I thought I could maybe work that in too.
I hum this little riff that’s been going through my head for a while. I try it again faster. It’s starting to seem like a more upbeat song than I thought it was going to be.
I get out of the shower and towel myself dry. I feel good. Good about the Army. Good about the song. Good about Christie.
I wait until Anthony goes out for his run before I head downstairs. I check my email. Nothing from the recruiter yet, or Tara for that matter, but I wasn’t expecting anything from her.
There is an email from Dad, though, saying he’s going to have to cancel our boat ride.
It kind of catches me off guard.
I never got an email from Dad before. He always calls. He’s not a big writer. Even all that time he was at sea, the most he ever sent home was a postcard.
And he’s never canceled anything before either.
I write back, You not talking to me now or something? but then delete it. Dad might not know I’m joking. Instead I put No problem. Still on for lunch at the Bluenose next week? and send it.
I go into the kitchen to get something to eat. I notice the tap dripping. Typical Anthony. You can’t even trust him to turn off the water when he’s finished with it.
I turn the handle hard. The water keeps dripping.
I’m going to have to fix that before I go too. There’s also the broken door on the hall closet that needs replacing and the window in the little kids’ room that has to be unstuck. No way Anthony would ever get around to doing any of that.
This is going to be a longer list than I thought.
I’m rooting around in the top drawer for a pen when the phone rings. I recognize the number. It’s Dad’s office.
“Ahoy, matey,” I say.
“Hello?” It’s a voice I don’t recognize.
“Oh, sorry.”
“Would this be Patrick Armstrong?”
“Yes.”
“This is Earl Colpitts. I work with your dad. You wouldn’t know where he is, do you?”
“No. Why?”
“He didn’t come in today for his shift and he didn’t phone. It’s not like him. We tried reaching him, but…”
The muscles in my neck jerk. Dad has never missed a day of work in his life.
“I’ve got a key to his place,” I say. “I’ll go see what’s up.”
The guy says, “Great. Thanks,” and I promise to call as soon as I know what’s happening. We’re both making the effort to sound relaxed but we’re both thinking the same thing.
This can’t be good.