My daddy never withheld any information about Kathleen. When I first started asking about her, I had this odd notion that she was a mystical princess. I told myself that she was under a spell and she just didn't recognize me.

That was a long time ago. I now see her for what she is...not right in the head.

"Hey, Rory, your daddy inside?" she says as she walks up the steps. She pats my shoulder like I'm the gardener who's done an acceptable job.

"Go on in, Kathleen."

Despite knowing she isn't right in the head, her response to me is like a little pinch.

Her sister, Cecilly, comes up the steps after her. Cecilly likes me. She'll occasionally send me a birthday card, slip a fifty in a Christmas card and forge Kathleen's signature on it.

"Rory, you get taller every time I see you."

"Hey, Cecilly. How are you doing?"

"I'm good, still working, thank God."

Discussing work with Cecilly is awkward. Work for her consists of a G-string and a pole. If you aren't paying attention, it means she's a stripper. She works in D.C. at a gentlemens' club. She has a special act that draws a huge crowd. It's a sister act, and don't bother answering when I ask if you can guess who the other dancer is.

"That's good."

Cecilly laughs and ruffles my hair.

I lean on the broom and then reach for the door. Cecilly peeks inside, sees my dad and steps back. "I'll wait in the car."

She hates my dad and he returns the favor.

"Kathleen, I'm not coming to see you," Dad says as he sits on the edge of the couch. He looks my way for help. "Rory, tell her about basketball."

"You should have been a basketball player, Dean," she says, not so much as looking my way.

He rolls his eyes. "I need to go in the other room for a minute, Kathleen. Here's an idea, talk to your son."

I wait, leaning against the wall in an awkward limbo. At last she looks at me.
"So, Rory, your daddy seeing anybody?"

"Nope."

Her face lights up. "I got men asking me out all the time. I always say no, cause my heart still belongs to Dean."

"He'll be glad to hear that," I mutter then glance at the kitchen clock. Fifteen minutes down, one hour and forty-five minutes to go.

Like I said, it's going to be a long afternoon.


Dad decides we can go to town for pizza after Kathleen leaves.

He stood down by the creek for over an hour, hurling rocks into the dirty brown water. Kathleen's visits, though they are few and far between, are very traumatic for both of us.

"I know you don't want to talk about her, but why does Cecilly hate you so much?"

"Because I was never one to kiss her ass."

He offers nothing more, so I know it's time to push. "What does that mean?"

He waits until the waitress puts our drinks down and walks away before he continues to speak.

"Women like Cecilly use their looks and their bodies to get things. Money, cars, attention. And your Aunt Cecilly used to be quite a looker. Men fell all over themselves when she was around. I never did."

"Dad, come on, Uncle Albie and Miss Denise said you put the move on anything with a pulse."

He glares. He hates it when I get my information from them. Albie ain't blood kin but he's the closest thing I have to an uncle.

"I never said she didn't get my attention, all I said was that I didn't kiss her rear."

Just in case you haven't figured it out, my dad is a smart ass. I say it with the ultimate respect.

For as long as I can remember I have dealt with teachers at school who get this look of fear or disgust when they find out Dean French is my father. I used to ask him what it was that he did to make most teachers hate him, but he'd always shrug off my question.

"Sometimes all you have to do is be yourself, Rory. That pisses people off when they want you to fit into a certain category."

Maybe that meant something to him, but I got absolutely nothing out of it. A smart ass, Dean is, a philosopher he ain't.