The Swindler

The Swindler

            The phone rang. Usually no one wants to answer the phone, so it goes to our message machine. But, tonight I was expecting a call from Mary because we were working on a project together. The phone rang once—I picked it up.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“Hi, is this Mary?”

Mary was my best friend. We had met in second grade. I was a short, stubby girl who always liked to dress herself. Mary was the taller and skinnier one who actually had a sense of fashion, even at a young age. I usually would come to school with my blonde short hair pinned back or in a ponytail but she would have hers perfectly combed. I can remember that we had the same teacher but I don’t remember what made us best friends.

“This is Susan.”

“Can I ask who you’re calling for?”

“I’m calling for Chet.”

I quickly pressed the end button and slammed the phone back onto the charger. Who was Susan? Why would she be calling at seven o’clock at night for my dad? We had to have our roof re-tiled but they wouldn’t be calling after hours. Thoughts kept running through my head about who this woman was, but I was interrupted by Dad, “Who were you talking to?”

I replied, “Oh, just Mary. Were working on a project together.” 

His eyes, open wide with a scared look, started at me for a while and then he quickly scurried away into the other room. I went on with my evening attempting to work on my project but I kept thinking about this girl Susan. Something about this situation just seemed wrong and my stomach turned in circles. I’m horrible at lying and I hate it but I had a gut feeling that I shouldn’t tell anyone that this woman had called.

Mom is in the kitchen whipping up some delicacy and Dad is in his office talking on the phone with who I assume are his business partners. Dinnertime arrives and Dad dashes in, to suddenly leave right after. “Goodbye sweetie. Goodbye Heather. I’m late for a business dinner.” he hastily said and kissed my mother and I before he ran out of the door.

           

            These situations had been going on for over four years, since I was seven. Dad would go to work. Mom would stay home and take care of me. She would make all the meals, pack all the lunches, and clean the house. Dad would come home from work when I came home from school. Mom would cook dinner and the Dad would leave. This would happen a couple times a week and it just became routine to me just like brushing my teeth.

*

            They were high school sweethearts. Their story wasn’t the typical “he was the football jock and she was the head cheerleader” story, but they met through mutual friends. He was dating a girl at the time and was introduced to Mom when all of their friends went bowling one night. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her even though he was with someone else. Something about Mom just made him fall in love so easily with her. They spent days and nights together. Dad finally ended his relationship with his previous girlfriend. They were inseparable and decided that marriage was in their future. After the “I do’s,” I came along. An unexpected but miraculous child, I was. I was an angel, always listening and following the rules. As I grew older I became closer to my mother as my father was usually was gone on business trips or business dinners with his partners.

*

            I had just turned sixteen and Mary wasn’t able to spend the day with me. We were going out for dinner to catch up a couple days after my birthday because she just came home from seeing her grandparents in Virginia for a week. We had never gone without seeing each other for more than a couple days so it was nice to finally see her. The trees were rustling outside as the autumn leaves fell from the gusty wind and slight drizzle. I took my umbrella outside, but the wind swallowed it up. We decided to walk along Ventura Boulevard and just come upon a restaurant that sounded tasty. The Swindler—we didn’t know what it meant or what food they served but we decided to give it a try.

“Table for two please.”

“The wait will be ten minutes if that’s okay.”

            My stomach was grumbling louder than the people talking in the restaurant. I looked across the room to see if there were any empty tables. My eyes peeled open in case someone left their table. My eyes came across a familiar looking man—someone who I couldn’t recognize fully but I knew that somehow I knew him. The perfectly combed brown hair, nice dress shirt, and the woman he was sitting with indicated to me he must be older, about mid forties. The woman hadn’t looked familiar, so I thought that I must be seeing things and that I actually didn’t know the man. He was holding her hand with a hugging grip; they were obviously in love. He leaned forward to give her a sweet kiss and as he pulled back we made eye contact. With a panic, I screamed, “Dad?!”