To my disliking, we didn't take the motorcycle. Mostly, because Dad insisted that if we were going to be taking it, he was going to be doing the driving. And, since I'm the only one who drives the motorcycle, you can imagine how well that went over.
So, we ended up walking down the sidewalks, not really talking all that much. And, if there ever was such a thing as an odd couple, we had to be it.
I, dressed in a pair of khakis and a pastel pink T-shirt, let my hands swing casually at my sides as I admired everything around me. The morning was such a beautiful time of time, (even though I certainly would've preferred sleeping in until ten). Seattle, just beginning to come alive, was like a flower opening up, letting the world see its beauty.
Dad, on the other hand, wore a pair of dark blue jeans with his dark shirt and had his hands shoved sharply into his black leather jacket pockets. His eyes were fixated on the cracked sidewalk below. He was simply the night to my day. The kind of night were you sit, with frazzled nerves, drumming your fingers against the edge of the bed where you can't sleep. And the day where bunnies go hopping across the littered park grass of Seattle. How sarcastically beautiful.
You'd think with all the time we had, walking down the sidewalk that is, that we'd talk and catch up on the months we'd missed. Well, don't be surprised when I say that we didn't. Dad and I didn't have that kind of relationship.
"Did you get breakfast?" Dad asked me, his voice slicing through the stilled silence.
"A bit."
"Toast and jam from Original Cindy?"
"Uh-huh."
He rolled his eyes slightly. "That girl…I don't know how Max can stand her sometimes."
"She's not that bad."
"I didn't say that, she's just not exactly normal."
"And, like we are?"
"Good point."
We walked for some time further before Dad stopped in front of a restaurant. "You want to get some better breakfast now?"
I gazed in the window and smelled all the delicious breakfast food. The greasy, glistening sausages next to fluffy, warm waffles and pancakes accompanied by poofy yellow eggs…and juice! They had juice! Apple juice, orange juice, grape juice, cranberry juice…oh they had juice! Dad was going to have to hold me back so that I didn't go into a frenzy inside.
"You sure you can cover this?" I asked Dad. "It looks rather expensive."
"I've got it," he assured me and we stepped inside.
The interior of the restaurant was air-conditioned, so that the rising humidity outside didn't dare intrude upon the luxury of others. A man, dressed in better clothes than I owned, greeted us, (although not before taking a disdained look at Dad and I). "May I help you?"
"Table of two," Dad told him.
"Smoking or non?"
"Non."
"Good, right this way then."
He seated us at a booth table, which Dad and I sat in, letting the soft leather fold around us. The man left and said another waiter would be right back.
"Nice," I stated.
"Very," he agreed.
I paused before saying, "Thanks."
Dad grinned cockily. There was something up his sleeve. "Well, thanks for getting me out of the house before Max got to me. Like you said, having another one of you wouldn't be any road trip."
"I'm offended," I replied with mock horror.
"Don't be. It's not your fault. Besides, I'm actually glad that you came along. What would Max and I have done with ourselves for eighteen years?" he asked with a laugh.
"Not changing my dirty diapers."
"Ah, but I never did that. One less horror in the world that I had to deal with."
