Andrew Klavan - Empire of Lies

"Oh, now you've rattled my sense of manhood to its depths," I said. "Have some coffee."

The machine was gurgling out the last drops of water. I took the carafe and slopped a dollop of coffee into a mug, plunked the mug in front of her. She did a real job on it, dumping as much milk into it as there was coffee and even more sugar. She was just a little girl, see, pretending to enjoy a grown-up drink. It was kind of sad, when you thought about it. Even when she was finished doctoring it, she didn't actually drink any of it, not right away. She just wrapped herself around the mug and inhaled the healing fumes.

I went to the stove and got to work making toast and cooking eggs. Now my back was to her.

"You remember who I am?" I asked her.

Her voice came sullenly from behind me. "A friend of my mother's, or something. I don't know."

"My name is Jason Harrow."

I was using my fork to scramble the sizzling eggs in the pan when I heard her say: "Hey. Yeah. My mother told me about you."

I was glad she couldn't see my face. This wasn't going to be good. I reminded myself to stay cool and patient, just like I did with my own kids. "Oh, yeah?" I said. "What'd she tell you?"

"She said you and her were together for a while. I remember now! She said you were into this whole, like, BDSM scene together. Only you got freaked out by it, so you moved to the middle of nowhere and went on this whole religion trip. She says you're, like, some right-wing Christian asshole now."

I laughed again-what could I do but laugh? I worked the eggs. "My life story in a nutshell."

"Man, that is so fucked up."

"That's true," I said with a sigh. "It was."

But I had misunderstood her. "I mean, you're, like, a Christian?"

I was scraping the eggs onto a couple of plates now. Shaking my head, smiling. "Oh. That. Yes. I am."

"That's some really fucked-up shit."

I grabbed the toast from the toaster, slapped butter on it.

"I had this teacher once? Mr. Benson?" said Serena-as if she were asking questions instead of trying to start an argument. "He says if people didn't call Christianity a religion, it would be classified as a mental illness."

That got another laugh out of me, louder this time.

"I mean, like, you believe people, like, rise from the dead and go to Heaven and do miracles and all this shit."

"It's not for sissies, that's for sure."

"And, like, no one can have sex with anyone else or whatever."

"Right. No sex. That's how we get our magical powers."

I set a plate in front of her and one for myself. I poured myself a mug of coffee and sat down with her. I said a silent grace.

"All that stick-up-your-ass shit, it just makes everyone, like, crazy, you know?" Serena said. "I think anyone should be able to, like, fuck anybody they want to-it's no one's business."

"Uh-huh. And how's that philosophy working out for you?"

She had lifted her coffee mug to her lips with both hands and was just taking her first actual sip from it when I asked her that. The question caught her off guard. She laughed. The coffee went up into her nose. She set the cup down, coughing.

That was the first time I liked her, liked anything about her. I liked her for laughing at that, for realizing how miserable she was making herself and being savvy enough to laugh. It was the first I'd felt anything for her besides pity and guilt and maybe disgust. I laughed, too.

But that made her angry-angry, you know, at having given so much of herself away. So she did that wonderful thing children do when they've unintentionally revealed their feelings: She pretended it hadn't happened, as if she could simply talk me out of having seen it.

"Would you stop laughing at me all the time?" she snapped. She yanked at her nose where the coffee had come out. "I mean it. It's so fucking rude. You laugh at, like, everything I say."

"You say funny things. I can't help it. They make me laugh."

"It's like you don't take anything I say seriously. It's really fucking rude. How would you like it?"

I was eating now, and I went on eating.

"Well? How would you?"

"You can laugh at me all you like, Serena. Then we'll be even. How's that?"

She withdrew to the sidelines, grumpy and dissatisfied. So far, I was ahead on points, see. But, to tell the truth, it was easy to beat her at this game. I had a big advantage. I was a dad, and she'd never had a dad, not really. I understood the rules, and she didn't have a clue. In order to win, you had to be clear about what you wanted. I wanted information, enough information to figure out what was going on in her life, what my responsibilities were, what I should do next. She thought she knew what she wanted, but in fact she didn't. She thought she wanted to outsmart me and make me look foolish and then get away from me and go brag about it to her friends. What she really wanted, of course, was for a grown-up to take charge of her and help her out of whatever jam she was in. She was working against herself and never had a chance.

I went on eating, but I watched her, too. I could see her thinking, scheming-looking for a new line of attack because she hadn't been able to get a rise out of me yet. That's what teenagers do, you know, they probe for weaknesses. They're smart enough to see the world is not what it seems, smart enough to see that we adults are all liars and hypocrites and so on, but they're not wise enough to know what to do with the information. All they can figure is to use their new insight as a weapon, a way of short-circuiting the power of the big people: You lied so I don't have to listen to what you say; you've done wrong so you have no authority. It's an idiot's game but they're young and it's all they know. Hell, some people never learn anything else.

Serena picked up a piece of toast. She examined it suspiciously as she thought things through. She nibbled at it, very delicate, very girly. There was another thing I could like about her. I approve of girly-especially in girls. Maybe she had enough woman inside her to make a lady out of, if anyone ever took the trouble. You never knew.

The next minute, though, I saw a wicked look come into her eyes, a sly smile to her lips. I could tell she'd come up with a new way to get at me.

"I remember something else my mother told me about you," she said.

"Oh, yeah?" I said around a mouthful of eggs. "What's that?"

"She said you might be my father."

I raised an eyebrow. That was interesting: might be-only might be. It'd be a hell of a relief if she turned out to be Carl's kid, after all. I tried not to sound too eager. "What else did she say?"

"She said she started fucking Carl right after you left, and she wasn't sure whose I was. She was gonna get me tested, but I wouldn't let her."

"Why not?"

"I thought she just said it 'cause she didn't like that I, you know, didn't hate Carl as much as she did."

I nodded. Smart girl.

"So do you think you're my father?" she asked, naughty and wheedling, looking for that weakness.

"I honestly don't know, Serena."

"Is that why you don't want to do anything with me?"

"I'm having breakfast with you. Doesn't that count?"

"I mean sex stuff."

"Oh." I dabbed at my mouth with one of the paper towels we were using for napkins. "I guess. That and the fact that I'm married and you're a child."

"I'm sixteen."

I'm afraid I smirked a bit at that.

She returned to the attack. "Like, is that why you're here? You think you're my father and you're gonna, like, swoop down suddenly and save me from my life. You're gonna, like, bring me to Jesus."

"I, like, might." I laughed. "You better be careful. Before you know it, you'll be singing hallelujah, handling snakes, God knows what else."

"Yeah. Like fat fucking Chinese chance. Y'know?" She reached down for her shoes. Slipped them on her feet. "Look, I gotta get back to the city," she said. She stood up. She took hold of her purse. "Are you gonna drive me, or do I have to hitchhike?"