There's also the added benefit of grabbing breakfast on the way. My handbag is over my arm when I hear the knock.
I pull open the door, expecting to see my landlady. She sometimes asks me to run errands for her on the weekends. But it's not Mrs. Hanes. My father is standing at the porch railing looking down to the yard.
"Daddy? What are you doing here?"
My father has only been to my place a few times. The day I moved in and to bring me some homemade soup from my mom when I wasn't feeling well. I visit my parents often enough that he doesn't need to.
He pulls me into a hug. "May I come in?"
"Of course. I'm sorry, I was just surprised." I step back so he can come in.
He shrugs out of his coat and folds it over his arm. I take it from him gently. "What brings you here so early?"
He looks around curiously, taking in the bright red color I painted on the walls a few months ago. I've always enjoyed what my dad calls a "lively" sense of style.
"I had to come. It's about the club." He takes a deep breath and then sits on the couch. He pats the cushion next to him so I put his coat down on the armchair and sit next to him.
"Dad, I know what this is about. Mom made it pretty clear that she's the one who didn't want to invest in the club anymore. I'm not angry at you."
My father has always been my biggest fan. I'm completely unashamed to be a daddy's girl. I know that my mom has tried to be supportive of my dreams but it's harder for her because she honestly doesn't understand them. Daddy has always shared my passion for music. He's the one who introduced me to jazz in the first place. When I was growing up, names like Gillespie, Coltrane and Ellington were as familiar to me as any of my relatives.
"When I figured out w
hat they were doing, I had to get out of there before I said something I'd regret. Your mother and I argued and if there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's to avoid talking when you're angry."
I pat his hand. "This isn't your battle, Dad. I don't want you and Mom fighting over me."
He turns and looks at me for a long moment. "I never told you this but I was supposed to be a partner in the club with Tommy when it first opened."
Tommy Billings, or Uncle Tommy as I'd always known him, was my dad's best friend from high school. He features heavily in all the stories my dad tells about the old days.
"You were? I didn't know that. All this time you've talked about how much you wished you'd had your own club. What happened?"
"Charlie happened."
The story of how my father got swindled out of his life savings by a friend has practically shaped my childhood. My parents almost went bankrupt and my mother had to take on odd jobs to help them get by.
Silence settles between us and I don't attempt to break it with questions. My dad tells stories in his own time and you can't rush him along.
"When Tommy first told me he wanted to open a club, I was excited. He had a friend who was ready to go in with us. All we needed was two thousand dollars each. It doesn't sound like much now but back in those times, it was all of my savings. If things had gone wrong, I would have been bankrupt. Then my friend Charlie told me I could double my money by investing in this new company. He told me he'd done it and so had a few of our other friends."
He rubs his hands over his eyes and the sheen of tears there makes a lump form in my own throat.
"You didn't know, Dad. He was your friend. Of course you trusted him."
"I was a fool. Trusting the wrong person cost me everything."
He lets out a long breath. The sadness on his face finally gets to me so I pull him into a hug. I hate seeing my father like this, broken and ashamed. The same boiling rage I always feel when hearing this story washes over me. I can't understand how people can be so cruel. So twisted. Manipulating people who are trusting is the lowest form of crime, in my opinion. It requires that you have no conscience at all. I'd rather someone stole my things than my dreams and my faith in other people.
"Well, I know that Uncle Tommy ended up owning the club anyway. Was he mad at you for dropping out?"
"At first. He called me all kinds of stupid for losing my money to a scam but it was too late. Since I was out, he had to come up with more cash to cover my share. I'm not sure how he did it but somehow he got the money. Things were great for a while but when the club hit hard times, they had to sell it. In the end he moved on and ended up in the glass business. He's happy and has a great life but I know he wonders about what might have been just like I do. Maybe if I'd been invested with him, we could have ridden out the hard times. I don't know." He blows on his hands and rubs them briskly.
"I'm sure he doesn't blame you, Dad."
"Maybe. Maybe not. But it's something I'll always wonder about. All your mother thinks about with you girls is getting you to settle down but I don't ever want you to settle. When you get married and have a family, there are sacrifices you'll have to make. I love you girls and I love your mother. You know I do. But it is a sacrifice. Do you understand what I'm telling you, baby girl?"
He squeezes my hand and his eyes are fixed on mine. I understand then what he's trying to say. The thing he doesn't want to admit out loud. That there's a part of him that will always wonder about what could have been. That he doesn't want that to happen to me.