Chapter 16

God dammit. Shit. Hell. Fuck. And other expletives, too, dammit.

Once upon a time, it was sort of fun (in a weird sort of way), to try to track down Dad. Then I got all caught up in the "James Bond, Secret Agent" thing, and thought I could find him myself.

And then I didn't.

Instead, the whole thing turned into a mystery.

After my disastrous walk on the beach with Debbie, we had gone back to the room. Against Debbie's wishes, I had asked her to go to the pool so I could be alone. So there I was.

Shit.

I lay in bed, trying to think — for the first time in a day, at least.

So, what did I know?

I knew Dad had been alive at least long enough to know he'd be missed.

I knew he was somewhere around the boat, or at least that he had been.

I could guess that he was in Florida, probably not too far from where I was now.

I knew that somebody who knew I was looking for him, knew where he was, or what had happened to him.

So where did that leave me?

Mom, Barb, Debbie, Emily, Dad's attorney (and his staff), and a few passing friends in Laramie, were the only people who I knew of that might have known I was looking for Dad in Florida.

Of them all, Dad's attorney jumped out at me. I didn't really know him, how far could I trust him? Hmmm. Unfortunately, I'd really liked him when I'd met him. In our conversations, he didn't seem to be acting weird or anything. I couldn't figure out why he'd do anything to Dad.

If I ruled him out, though, that left nobody.

Sherlock Holmes' Law: After eliminating the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, is the truth.

What else was there? What if nothing even improbable is left?

The note. The "Puzzle," according to Debbie. I pulled it out and read it again.

I focused on a few parts of thing.

"... you get this puzzling message." Dad never talked like that. That had to mean the note was a clue, if I could figure it out.

"Your love and strength are key..." My love and my strength. Debbie? Math? Neither? Dad didn't even know Debbie.

"Tell me about it if you get a chance." How would I do that? I had no way to contact him.

"... your room when you were eight." Maybe "eight" is a numeric key?

"... Chuck -- Mom's friend..." I'd have to ask Mom about Chuck. I'd never heard of any friend of hers named "Chuck."

"... so you can GET IT." Hmmm. I don't get it.

"Counting on you..." Counting. A reference back to math again? What Dad knew about math was just about limited to counting. That's not fair. Dad could do the math necessary to navigate a small boat on the open ocean; that's not a minor skill... but.

I refolded the note.

Shit. I still knew nothing.

Mom answered on the third ring. "Hi Mom, it's Michael."

Why do we say things like that? Mom has one child. When I say "Hi, Mom" she knows who it is. I digress.

"So what have you found?" Mom asked.

I snorted. "Nothing. He's not here. His reservation was cancelled. I got some joke of a note or a clue or something... but it makes no sense."

Mom must have heard something in my voice. "Are you okay? Is Debbie?"

"Debbie's fine. She's at the pool. I..." I paused.

"Michael?"

"I... I really thought I'd find him, Mom."

"It's okay, Michael," Mom said. "In the real world, you do what you can do — and sometimes you just can't do something."

"But..."

"Stop, Michael," Mom said. "You didn't make him disappear. You haven't ignored him. You're trying. Give yourself some credit."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "I'll try, Mom."

"Michael. I love you. For all his faults, and I know the lot of them, I think, I know that your Dad loves you too. If you can find him, you will. But don't obsess over it." Mom paused to let me think, I think. "You didn't really go down there on a mission, you know? If he isn't there, call Chuck and tell him, and let him figure out what to do next."

It was like an electric shock. "Chuck?"

"Dad's attorney?" Mom said. "Charles Miller? Everybody calls him Chuck."

I didn't, I called him "Mr. Miller." Chuck. Chuck? "I'll call him, Mom. Right after I hang up."

"No. You go find Debbie, who is not happy, down by the pool. You apologize for sending her off. Then the two of you go do something fun for the afternoon. I'll call Chuck."

"Bu... B... But? How do you know she isn't happy?"

Mom laughed for the first time in our conversation. "Your Miss Debbie knows how to use a phone, too, Michael."

I had to chuckle. "Women."

"You don't yet have even the tiniest inkling, Michael," Mom told me. "Now go find her, and I'll call Chuck."

"Yes ma'am." You've got to love Mom.

I stuffed the frustration and self-pity back into the hole it belonged in, washed my face, and headed for the pool.

At first, as I stepped out on the pool deck, I didn't see Debbie. I looked a bit closer, and finally spotted her — with two guys sitting down talking to her.

Perfect.

I attempted to stroll over, unconcerned. I don't know how well I pulled it off, but I did get to where she was lying. "Hey," I said.

One of the two guys looked up at me. "Can I help you?" he said. I figured he was about four inches and forty pounds bigger than I was. He was also in a lot better shape. Somebody had been working out. I idly wondered if what I'd heard about an inverse relationship existing between steroid use and penis size was true.

"I doubt it," I said, feeling a bit of my frustration at the day floating up, "unless you're the waiter — then you could get my girlfriend and me a couple of drinks."

His buddy twisted around to look at me. Debbie slipped her sunglasses down her nose a bit and looked too, a smile just playing with the corners of her lips.

"Fuck you," the first one said.

"Please leave. Now," I said to him.

"We're just talking to her," the second one told me.

"Well, the conversation's over," I said, somewhat reasonably.

"What are you going to do if we just tell you to fuck off?" the first guy asked.

Debbie slipped her sunglasses back up, the small smile still there.

"After the morning I've had," I said with a sigh, "I'd probably do something we'd both regret. But I can assure you, that no matter how badly you hurt me, the only way to keep me from hurting you worse, would be to kill me." I know it was a bit over the top, but I was slowly getting pissed at his attitude. I also think I might have enjoyed the pure release of a fistfight... even one I would surely lose.

My sincerity must have shown in my eyes. "You're fucking crazy!" the second guy said.

"I don't want to hurt you, man," the first guy said to me. "We were just talking to her."

"Fine," I said. "Please leave."

"He's fucking crazy," the second guy said to the first. "Let go get a brew and leave her to him."

"Whatever," the first guy said. He stood up.

I was right. At least four inches taller than me.

They brushed past me, leaving. "Asshole," the first one said as they walked off.

Probably. I turned to Debbie. "Hi."

She laughed. "Hi, yourself. Did you enjoy yourself there?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Kind of."

"They really were just talking."

"Guys never 'just talk' to girls, Debbie," I said. "They may not have expected anything to happen, but they wouldn't have been here if they weren't interested in finding out."

Debbie laughed again. "Sit down. How's your mom?"

So I sat down where the first guy had been, stretched my legs out, and told her, briefly, about my conversation with Mom. When I was done, I followed Mom's advice. "I'm sorry I sent you off, earlier," I said. "I..." I didn't know what else to say.

"You wanted some time alone," Debbie said. "It's okay." She got a mischievous look in eyes, "I got to meet some nice people."

I chuckled. "I don't think they liked me," I said.

"That appeared to be mutual," Debbie agreed. "And Michael?"

Hmm? "Yeah?"

"Thank you for standing your ground against them. They weren't being a problem, but they could have been. It made me feel safe when you sent them off."

I reached over and took her hand. "I love you."

We drifted off to sleep.