Second Chance

Chapter 53

I MADE A POT OF COFFEE for my father and a cup of Red Zinger for me. I gave him a quick tour, introducing him to Martha, who almost against my silent instructions took a liking to dear old Dad.

We sat on my white canvas couch, Martha curled up at my father's feet. I gave him a damp cloth, and he dabbed at a scratch on his cheek.

“Sorry about the bruise,” I said, cradling the hot mug on my knees. Kind of sorry.

“I've earned worse.” He shrugged with a smile.

“Yeah, you have.”

We sat facing each other. Neither of us knew quite where to begin. “So, I guess this is where you bring me up to date on what you've been up to for the last twenty-two years?”

He swallowed and put down his mug. “Sure. I can do that.” He took me through his life, which seemed more like a sputtering spiral of bad luck. He had been an assistant chief, which I guess I knew down in Redondo Beach. Then he left to go into private security Celebrities. Kevin Costner. Whoopi Goldberg. “Even went to the Oscars.” He chuckled.

He'd gotten married again, this time for only two years.

“Found out I was underqualified for the job,” he quipped with a self-effacing wave. Now he was back in security - no celebrities, doing odd jobs.

“Still gambling?” I asked.

“Only mind bets. In my head,” he replied. “Had to give it up when I ran out of funds.”

“Still root for the Giants?” When I was a kid, he used to take me after his shift to this bar called the Alibi on Sunset.

He'd prop me up on the counter where he and his buddies would watch the afternoon games from Candlestick. I loved being with him back then.

He shook his head. “Nah, gave them up when they traded away Will Clark. I'm a Dodger fan now. I would like to go to the new park, though.” Then he looked at me for a long time.

It was my turn now. How to relate the past twenty-two years of my life to my father?

I took him through as much as I could handle, leaving out anything related to Mom. I told him about my ex, Tom, how it hadn't worked out. (“Chip off the old block.” He snickered.

“Yeah, but at least I stayed,” I replied.) How I pushed for Homicide and finally got it.

He nodded glumly. “I read about that big case you worked on. Even down south, it was all over the news.”

“A real resume launcher.” I told him how a month after, I'd been offered the job as lieutenant.

My father leaned forward and placed a hand on my knee.

“I wanted to see you, Lindsay. A hundred times... I don't know why I didn't. I'm proud of you. Homicide's top of the line. When I look at you... you're so... strong, in control. So beautiful. I only wish I could take a little of the credit.”

“You can. You taught me I had no one to rely on but myself.”

I got up, refilled his cup, and sat down again facing him.

“Look, I'm sorry things haven't worked out for you. I really am. But it's been twenty-two years. Why are you here?”. I sat across from the Hall in my car for three hours, trying to figure out the way to approach you. I didn't know if you'd want to see me."

“I don't know if I do, Daddy.” I tried to find the right words, and I felt the edge of tears welling in my eyes. “You were never there. You ran out on us. I can't just change the way I've felt for all these years.”

“I don't expect you to, Lindsay.” he said. “I'm becoming an old man. An old man who knows he's made a million mistakes. All I can do now is try and reverse some of them.”

I looked at him, half shaking my head in disbelief, half smiling, and dabbing at my eyes. “Things are crazy here now. You heard about Mercer?”

“Of course.” My father exhaled. I waited for him to say something, but he simply shrugged. “I saw you on the news. You are stunning. Do you know that, Lindsay?”

“Dad, please. Don't.” This case needed everything I had right now. It was madness. Here I was facing my father again.

"I don't know if I can handle this now.

“I don't know either,” he said, tentatively reaching out for my hand. “What about we try?”