Gay Daddies

A Present for Daddy-4

Even though it’s a little after seven thirty, the night is pitch black and it feels much later. It doesn’t help that none of the residential streets in my parents’ subdivision have street lights. Neither does the main drag, Conduit Road, which runs straight past the junior high school to the mall with only one stop light along the way. The road is two lanes and quiet, the double solid yellow line painted down the middle faintly reflective in my headlights. As I drive past the school, I slow down and stare out at the hulking building in the darkness, remembering the two years I spent there so long ago.

A horn blares behind me, and I glance into my rearview mirror to see twin headlights bearing down on my car.

I hit the gas and speed up, taking the dark curves a bit too fast, trying to put some distance between myself and the other driver. It’s some kind of truck or SUV, the lights shining right at the level of my eyes. And the asshole driver stays on my tail, as if goading me along.

Ahead the stop light flickers from yellow to red and I hit the brakes. A perverse part of me hopes the other driver isn’t paying attention and rear-ends me. I could use the money.

Here the road widens out and, just my luck, the jerk swings into the lane beside mine. I turn up the radio and stare studiously straight ahead, not eager to make eye contact. This might be the boonies and it might be miles from the big city, but this is still the south, and anyone who drives a pickup truck like that has to own a gun. I just know it.

Beside me, the truck revs its engine, then the horn bleats again. I keep facing forward. I won’t get drawn into this, I can’t. I have Jenna to think about. I’ll just wait for the light to change and let him pull ahead…

The horn again, a long braying sound this time. The asshole really wants to piss me off. I hear a window roll down and a man’s voice call from the cab, “Hey!”

Then the light turns green, and I ignore my plan to wait him out. Instead I hit the gas and zoom ahead through the intersection, putting as much road between us as I can. By the time I’m turning into the mall parking lot, the truck just begins to pull away from the light. But it changes lanes and follows me. Into the parking lot, around the left side of the mall, f**k.

I look for a police car and, of course, don’t see one. Of course not. A stop sign looms ahead, but I turn off and weave through the parked cars, hoping to lose the truck among the aisles. It follows, but at a distance. Maybe he’s just looking for a spot, like me.

And maybe I’d believe that, if he hadn’t yelled out his window at me. No, this jerk wants a fight. I’m in no mood to get hassled.

I head for another section of the parking lot, closer to the entrance where I know I can reach the toy store quickly. In and out, that’s my new plan. I pull into the first empty spot I see and check to make sure I have my cell phone in my pocket. If he comes at me, I’ll call 911.

With my hand tight around my cell, I park and turn off the car’s lights. For a long moment, I listen to the engine tick in the darkness and feel the winter evening seep in beneath the fading heat. I look around the lot and don’t see the truck—rather, I can’t pick it out among all the others. It’s two days before Christmas and the mall might close in a little over an hour, but the place is as packed as it was when I was here this afternoon with Jenna.

A sigh of relief escapes me. I lost him. I pull up the parking brake, take the key from the ignition, and step out of the car. As I’m slamming the door shut, a pair of familiar, high-riding headlights pull into the empty spot behind me.

Fuck.

They click off, leaving me momentarily disoriented. I hear a car door open, then a man calls, “Didn’t you see me trying to get your attention back there?”

My hand curls around my cell. “Where, at the light?”

Coming closer, the man grabs my free hand and pulls me into a one-armed hug. “Holy hell, Bobby Jansen all grown up.”

I recognize the voice—not just the words from the bear this afternoon but the voice, it rushes at me from my past and whatever apprehension I had disappears in a surprised laugh. “f**k, Dave Knarr? That’s not you, is it?”

The arm around my shoulders tightens and Dave laughs. “Who else would it be? And you just blew me off—”

“I thought you were some crazy, road-rage redneck!” I step back but he still holds my hand in his, so I shake it over and over again like a politician.

Dave laughs, a booming sound I remember vividly. “I was! I was all like damn fucker, going so slow. Then I get to the light and I looked over and s**t, it’s you!”

He finally lets go of my hand, and I tuck it into my pocket like the other—it’s getting cold now, but I don’t want to rush into the mall and lose this moment. Dave and I were best buds back in high school. Inseparable. Every memory I have from freshman to senior year, he’s right there in it with me. We used to be so tight. Funny how my going away to college—and getting married to Julia—managed to tear us apart.

“So what are you up to now?” I want to know. “Other than playing Christmas songs and spouting adverts from Santa’s mountain.”

In the light thrown from the halogens lining the parking lot, he looks like his father. Older than I remember, but just the same nonetheless. Now he grins, and the boy I used to know shines through loud and clear. “I got roped into that one, believe me. I run the mall’s ad office, and my boss came in one day and was like hey, I got a sweet gig for you, seasonal, get you out for a bit, you know? If I’d have known what she meant, I would’ve said hell, no!”

I laugh along with him, not because I really understand what he’s saying but because his own laugh is so damn infectious, I can’t resist. “What about you?” he asks. Before I can answer, he claps me on the back, then wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Damn, it’s cold! How about I buy you a drink and we catch up for old times’ sake?”

I check the time on my phone. “I have to hit the toy store before it closes. If I don’t have a girls’ bike up under my Christmas tree in two days, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“The little tyke you were with today?” Dave asks. “She yours?”

I nod. “And she’s going to be mad as hell if I don’t get exactly the right bike.”

Dave’s grin pales a moment. “I thought she looked like Julia. How is she, by the way?”

Even though I know what he’s asking, I say anyway, “Jenna? She’s great.” Dave gives me an arched look. “Julia, now…that’s going to take more than just one drink to get through.”

“I’ll buy you two,” Dave concedes. His arm is a heavy, warm weight across my shoulders. “But hey, you got a bike to buy first.”

“Want to tag along?” I ask.

His reply is an enthusiastic, “Hell, yeah!”