I waited a long time in the reclining chair before he finally came back.
“What was it?” I asked.
He dismissed my concern with a wave. A flourish, really. “Nothing,” he answered, glazing over my question and moving on with the adept skill of someone used to dodging the prying questions of children. “Good news. Tooth is chipped but not cracked, so we don’t need to do a filling or a crown. I can smooth the edge down so it doesn’t bother your tongue.”
He was lying, of course. All that concentrating over a chip that needed polishing? But I could tell he wasn’t planning to give me any more than that, so I opened my mouth wide when he told me to and let him buff the chip into submission.
And on my way out, like I was still seven, he let me choose a prize from the treasure box the receptionist kept hidden behind the counter. It was overflowing with plastic rings and beads and spinning tops and toy soldiers with flimsy parachutes stuck to their backs.
I reached for a paddle with a rubber ball attached to a string, and when I did, I saw the way “my brother’s” eyes lit up with desperate longing. He wanted my third-rate paddleball; I knew he wanted it.
I pretended not to notice, but inside I was grinning a pretty self-satisfied grin at my not-too-dignified jab at the toddler as I tucked it into my pocket, thinking I’d rather throw the stupid piece of junk in the trash than give it to him. And then I turned to my mom, who was looking at me like she knew exactly what had just transpired, and I told her, “I’m riding with Dad.”
“So what was all that about? With Dr. Dunn? I know he saw something on my X-rays.” I had to say it fast so I could get the words out in one breath, doing my best not to breathe inside my dad’s pigpen of a van. The smell of stale fast food alone was enough to make me gag, but, like yesterday, it was the other smell, the faint odor of something . . . mildewy . . . or musty—I didn’t know exactly what it was, but it was disgusting.
“Nothing, really.” But my dad didn’t gloss over things as well as Dr. Dunn had, and his “nothing” sounded more like an admission of guilt.
I kicked a crumpled paper bag at my feet and wondered just how often he got his meals at greasy drive-throughs. From the state of his van, I’d guess every one. “You can tell me. Actually,” I said, sitting up taller, “I think you have to tell me. I’m an adult now. I have a right to know.” It was so strange to say that out loud, especially since I didn’t feel any older.
My dad reached up and rubbed his jaw, his fingers distorting the skin of his face. “Really, I can’t tell you. Your mom—”
“She doesn’t have to know you told me. What’s the point in keeping secrets? It’s just the friggin’ dentist. How bad could it be? I have gum disease? I need a root canal? Come on.”
My dad veered suddenly to the right, the van lurching along as he maneuvered us toward the side of the road. My stomach dropped. It reminded me too much of the night he pulled his car over, when I’d insisted I was getting out to walk.
“What are you doing?” My voice sounded hollow, weak.
He pulled out his phone. A flip phone that had been outdated even five years ago, and he dialed while I waited. “I’m taking her to my place,” he said into the low-tech receiver. He flashed a knowing grin at me. “Yeah, she wants to meet Nancy.”
The first thing Nancy did was lick me. It was the grossest greeting I’d ever gotten, but I forgave her right away because, after licking me, her tail was wagging so hard she could hardly stand still. It was as if someone had wound up her butt, and she no longer had control over her own actions.
Nancy was a mutt. And not just any mutt, but the muttiest-looking mutt I’d ever laid eyes on. She had to be at least part sheepdog, and maybe part wolf, but there was definitely part something else in there too. Something mangy. She was bushy to the point that she was in danger of being considered some kind of mongrel prehistoric ram or a mutant woolly mammoth rather than just a regular old dog.
But when she stared at me with her enormous, liquid-brown eyes, I could see why my dad had fallen in love with her in the first place. And also why he put up with her unholy stink. It was exactly that smell that I’d noticed in his van: the Nancy smell.
“So, what’d’ya think of my fancy Nancy?”
She had her chin perched on my knee and was staring at me all longingly and doe-eyed, as if she had no intention of letting me get away. Ever. “Not that fancy, I gotta say.” I reached out and ruffled the top of her head, her ears flopping in two different directions when I did. “But she’s not so bad.”
I glanced around uneasily, less comfortable with my next question. “Dad, what are you doing here? What is this place?”
My dad followed my gaze. “I know it’s probably not what you expected, but it’s my home. This is where I live now. Ever since . . . well, since . . .” He lowered his head, rubbing his whiskery chin again. He went to the small kitchen, not really a separate space in the cramped trailer, and he turned on one of the gas burners. He kept his back to me as he filled a kettle. “It’s not so bad,” he finally finished, using the same words I’d used about his dog before facing me once more.
I winced. Not so bad. I didn’t really agree. It was worse.
There were stacks of newspapers and magazines and bills and notebooks on every surface that wasn’t covered with dirty dishes or laundry or bags filled with who knew what. There wasn’t a TV that I could see, but there was a giant telescope standing in the center of what I assumed was supposed to be the living room but was really more of a glorified walkway, complete with a two-seater couch that was also littered with clothes and newspapers. I didn’t see the booze bottles or empty beer cans, but that didn’t mean they weren’t here somewhere.