I WAS IN THE SHOWER when her mother stopped by the house. My 77-year-old father received her. She was wearing sunglasses and walking a small dog, and was wearing an unusually business-like purple coat that might have belonged at one time to Prince. Her black hair was held back in a ponytail. She said she wanted to see me. I popped my head out of the shower and through the window could see her talking to my father on the front lawn. She gave him her business card and left. I did not detect one hint of a smile or jolly mood in that one. She looked cross and concerned.
Afterward my father gave me her business card. He told me I had to arrange a meeting with the woman. “She wants to know what’s been going on between you and her daughter,” he said while making coffee. “Is there something you want to tell me?” The black drink began to boil.
As far as I could recall nothing had been going on. We had just played board games with her and her brother Gustavo. Innocent stuff. Candy Land. Chutes and Ladders. Scrabble. Checkers. Battleship. “Direct hit! You sank my battleship.” That’s all I could remember. It was odd, because her daughter was a woman. By each and every metric. In the 18th century, she would be considered the unlucky, unmarried daughter. But in my memories, she was much younger, maybe about 14 years old. My board game memories didn’t seem to match the reality. Had I known the girl earlier than I remembered? What was this about? Maybe it was all a dream.
Still rattled with doubt, I made plans to meet and smooth things out with the mother. There had been nothing illicit or devious about my relationship with her daughter. Anything sexual was purely imaginary. Yes, she was a pretty girl, but that was the older version of her. We had been playing board games, that’s all. Just board games! I picked up the phone and dialed her. Sometimes you had to face the music, even if you thought or felt you were wholly innocent.
The phone rang a few times and then her mother picked up.
north! 