From nowhere, my next thoughts went to my biological father, and that he was out there somewhere.
I pushed the idea away. I would not think about him. I would not. But all that did was send my mind racing back to Dad and the fact he was dead. Snatched away even earlier than we’d thought. It was enough to make me want to scream, pound my fists against the doors of the taxi, smash the windows with my bare hands. My chest rose and fell more quickly as my breath became shallow, and when I sensed Lewis’s eyes on me again, I seized the opportunity to start a conversation, to talk about anything—preferably a topic as bland as three-week-old vanilla pudding—in the hope it would distract and calm me somehow.
“You usually work weekends, don’t you?” I said, forcing my voice into neutral, hoping Lewis wouldn’t detect my thinly veiled hysteria or mistake my banal question for not giving a shit about Dad. “I see you leave early every morning.” When he looked at me, I felt a blush creep across my cheeks. Dear God, now he’d think I was the building’s stalker in residence instead. “I mean, I hope you won’t be in trouble with your boss on my account.”
“I asked one of my team to open up this morning,” he said. “Gym owner’s privilege.”
“I didn’t know you own a gym. Mrs. Winchester never... Uh, I mean, that’s impressive.”
Lewis waved a hand. “It’s nothing, really, only a small place on Forest Avenue.”
“What’s it called?” I had to keep him talking; it was the only way to drown out all the other terrible thoughts whispering inside my head, telling me over and over again what a despicable person I was.
“Audaz.”
“Is that Portuguese?”
“Spanish. It means bold and fearless. I chose it because of my maternal grandmother. She was a total badass.”
“Was she a bullfighter or something?”
Lewis chuckled. “No, but her parents died when she was young, and her uncle who was supposed to take care of her was a complete ass. When she was sixteen, she woke up one morning, packed her things and walked out of the house without looking back.”
“I can relate.”
He nodded. “She said it was the best decision she ever made.”
My heart had slowed, but now my interest felt real. “What happened? Where did she go?”
“Well, after hitchhiking to the coast, she found a ship bound for America and talked her way into working her fare as a cook.”
“What a great story.”
“There’s more. She arrived in Boston with twenty bucks in her pocket and four years later opened her own restaurant. Now, that’s what I call impressive.”
“Didn’t you want to follow in her restauranteur footsteps?”
He shook his head. “No, they sold the place when I was a kid. But I’m kind of in the industry if you think about it. I get people to work off all the paella they eat.” He laughed and despite myself I joined in. I had a feeling Lewis was doing everything he could to keep me distracted, help me forget about what was going on if only for an instant, and I was grateful.
“We do personal training and boot camps,” Lewis continued, “prepare people for obstacle runs and stuff. You should come once your head’s better.”
“Uh, no, thanks. Working out is about as appealing as using knitting needles to clean my ears. Thanks for the offer, though, Drill Sergeant Farrier.” I gave him a salute.
“Captain Farrier, if you please.” He laughed again, a warm sound that made my heart skip a couple of beats, and I told it to knock it off. “Figured I’d put my army experience to good use, and bossing people around a gym seemed a natural fit.”
“I didn’t know you were in the army.”
He smiled again. “Ten years, and I want to say we barely know each other, but you’ve seen what laundry detergent I use, so it wouldn’t be an accurate statement, would it?”
I’d hoped our basement polka-dot-underwear encounter had somehow been erased from his mind, or, better still, I’d dreamed it. The heat rose to my face again, and I could barely stop myself from pressing my forehead against the cool window.
We arrived at the hospice not long afterward, helping to avoid more humiliation but regenerating the havoc inside me. As the cab came to a halt, the mood shifted, as if we’d driven under an invisible yet oppressive cloud.
“Want me to come with you?” Lewis said after he’d paid the fare.
“I’ll be okay, thanks. You can go now if—”
“I’ll stay right here, and I’m not in any hurry, so take as long as you need.”
As soon as I stepped inside the building, Brenda rushed out from behind the reception desk and hugged me hard, squeezing more tears out of me as she asked about the bruise on my face, patting my hands when I told her. She led me to a sofa where we sat as she put her arms around me, waiting for my crying to subside. How many times had she been in this situation? How many spouses, partners, fathers, mothers and children had she comforted? I clung to her, inhaled her perfume, not wanting to let go.
“I—I shouldn’t have left last night.” I took a gulp of air to suppress another sob.
“You didn’t know it was his time, sweetheart,” Brenda whispered.
“But he was struggling and I shouldn’t have gone,” I said, and she hugged me again, gave me a tissue from a bright orange box on the table and waited for me to speak. “We argued last night. I said some awful things... He died thinking I meant them. I should’ve stayed. I should’ve told him I loved him. Why didn’t I stay?”
She rubbed my shoulder. “He knew you did, honey. He knew. And he loved you, too. Only the other day he told me how proud he was, what a fantastic daughter you are.”
“Did he? Did he really say that?”
“Yes. He said you were the best girl a dad could ever hope for.”
I closed my eyes and bit down on my lip, the memories of my father so strong, so real, it felt as if he was sitting there with us, leaning back into a comfy chair, his cheeks full again, his skin pink. How could someone who was gone still feel so present? And what would happen to me when those feelings and the memories began to fade?
“Do you know what happened?” I said.
“I shouldn’t—”
“Please, Brenda. What difference does it make if you tell me? I want to know now.”
She looked at me, seemingly debating whether I’d cause trouble if she gave me the details, and deciding I wouldn’t. “They think his heart gave out, and with the DNR, well...”