Dad said, “It’s been a long time. Since you said you loved me. I can’t even remember the last time, in fact.”
“When I was eleven, and you took me to see the Russian circus in San Jose. I said it a couple times in the car on the way there. But you didn’t like it, so I stopped.”
“How do you know I didn’t like it?”
“You told me it was peculiar for a son to tell his father he loved him.”
“Did I?”
“Those were your exact words.”
“Well.” Dad brushed his hand through the air like he was shooing away a fly. “As you said, raising a child is never easy. It was my job to make sure you turned out strong enough to make it in a difficult world. I had to be careful not to let you turn soft on me.”
“You talk like you raised me up single-handed. But I haven’t seen you in person in over four years. I don’t see how you can reconcile that with what you’re saying.”
I expected him to shoot me a nasty glare, but he didn’t even look up from the table. He said, “I had to make a living. It wasn’t like your mother was going to be able to support a decent lifestyle for you on her own, what with her lack of work experience, and a degree in the humanities. Or perhaps you would have preferred growing up in an East Bay shithole and going to school with a bunch of Nigerian refugees.”
“It’s not like you couldn’t have found a job that kept you closer to home. How was I supposed to feel with you away on business all the time?”
“Grateful. That’s how you were supposed to feel. What? You think you’re the only son who ever had to make do while his father was out earning money? If you were a Chinese boy, you’d barely see your father’s face until you were all grown up. And you’d be proud that he had a job that kept him busy with so many responsibilities.”
“I’m not a Chinese boy”
“Evidently. Evidently.”
“Please. Let’s not get started on another mean streak. I just told you that, despite everything you’ve said to me so far on this trip, I still love you. I thought maybe you could take the time to say you love me as well.”
“Yes. I suppose I could.” He took a slow sip of brandy, and afterwards he sat idly swirling the liquor around in his glass like one of the noble lords he admired so much from history. “It’s difficult for me to express myself like that. With words. To go around saying how I feel like a woman or a hippie. I’ve always been more comfortable with actions and gestures, with doing things to show people that I care. That’s why I place so much importance on gifts, I think. Because making an effort to do something is the best way I know to let those feelings out.”
“I can understand that, Dad. And to be honest, I had kind of hoped this trip would be a way for you to do just that.”
“Well. The trip’s not over yet. Let’s get the check and see what we can do about it.”
“You’re saying you want to buy me another gift?”
“In a sense, yes. But first tell me something. Are you still a virgin?”
The question was so unexpected I nearly sprayed vodka out my mouth and across the tablecloth. I said, “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
Dad shook his head and smiled enigmatically. “I can tell from your reaction that you are. That’s all right. The boys who lose it in high school always peak too early. But now that you’re going to be making your way in the world, you’ll need to know how to lay your claim when the time comes. I can help you with that. Take the mystery and suspense out of it for you.”
“I’m not sure I like where this is going.”
He laughed. “Don’t be scared. That’s the woman’s job.”
Kylee came and placed our bill between us in a black leather tablet. She smiled with her hands behind her back. “How we doin’, guys? Everything all right?”
Dad pulled out his entire bankroll and dealt a few large bills onto the open tablet. He said, “Tell me, Kylee. Any chance those friends of ours are working tonight? At the usual place?”
Kylee glanced from side to side and then down at the roll of money in Dad’s hand. “That depends. You got any particular friends in mind?”
“Possibly. What about our acquaintance with the long brown hair? I have a hunch she and my son might really hit it off.”
Kylee turned her head and looked at me in a way that I knew was insinuating something. She said, “It’s short notice, but I think she might be available later this evening.”
Dad dropped several more bills onto the tablet. “We’re about thirty minutes away now. See that she’s ready and waiting when we arrive.”
Kylee took the cash and hurried off to use the phone on the other side of the bar. I watched her as she placed the call, noticing the perfunctory way she carried out the task at hand, no differently than if she were taking down dinner reservations or putting in a produce order. Meanwhile, Dad raised his glass to me and nodded. He said, “Drink up. At your age, liquor can only help you get your money’s worth.”
We took the main road out of Porterville and followed it I don’t know how far into the country before turning onto another road that was completely removed from any reliable source of light. Dad switched on the high beams and switched them off just as quickly. He was sober enough to know not to draw attention to us, but drunk enough to slip up now and then if he didn’t keep his attention fixed on what he was doing. And so we drove on in silence much as we had for the better part of the day, him focusing on the road ahead, me half-sick and terrified of where the road might be leading us.
By the time we started heading up a long, unpaved driveway, I realized that I had no memory of actually getting up and following Dad out of the restaurant and into the Charger. The sudden frailty of my mind struck me as both scary and funny, though I lost all sense of humor about everything the moment we reached the end of the driveway and parked in front of a well-lit house with pink curtains in the windows. There were nicer vehicles than ours surrounding the house, as well as shabbier ones, but they all had the same rim of dirt around the tires from making the drive here on the dusty valley roads. After jamming the parking break into place, Dad pulled a flask from his jacket pocket and took a drink, his fifth or sixth in total for the evening.
He wiped his mouth and said, “When we get in there, don’t make eye contact with the other men unless they make it first. But treat every woman in the place like she’s an old girlfriend from a long time ago. I’ve already got a date lined up for you, so you don’t have to worry about fending off any sales pitches, but as a rule you should act the gentleman to all of them, even the ones who are too worn-out or ugly to earn their keep. You listening to me?”
I nodded gently and continued to stare out the window at the house. It was an old place, pre-Republic, with three stories stacked on top of one another in order of decreasing size like layers on a wedding cake. The pink curtains and bright yellow exterior only added to the impression I had that the whole house was one big frosted confection designed to be gobbled up by greedy children like the witch’s cottage in the fairy tale. I listened for screams, for the cat-like moaning of whores, but heard only the faint sounds of an erhu turning out pre-recorded Chinese melodies in a slow and longing style.
Dad said, “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet.”
I looked down at the floor mat, but my feet were too drunk to tell if they were hot or cold. “I said I wanted to find God. I don’t think this is the place to do it.”
Dad gestured outside with his flask still in hand. “God’s in there as much as any place.”