Marilyn Kaye - Better Late Than Never

Mentally kicking herself for having doubts, she waved to him, and he waved back.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Fine," she replied automatically. "How was yours?"

"Fine," he said. There was a silence.

"It's not easy, is it?" he said. "You'd think that with all these years to catch up on, we wouldn't have any problem coming up with subjects for conversation."

She smiled awkwardly. She wasn't exactly ready to pour out all her feelings and experiences--not yet. She needed something not too personal to get this relationship off the ground.

She glanced at the display in the store window. "What kind of music do you like?"

"A little bit of almost everything," he replied. "Classical, jazz, rock. I'm not too crazy about folk music."

Jenna lit up. "I hate folk music! Do you like techno?"

"I can't say I know much about it," he admitted. "Want to introduce me?"

They went into the music store, and Jenna showed him CDs of the groups she particularly liked. There were headphones hanging on the walls so that you could listen to samples, and she showed him how to use them.

He was cool. He didn't pull that fake adult thing of pretending to love all the music she played for him, just to prove that he was down with the younger generation. He liked some groups, he didn't like others, and he expressed his opinions openly.

"I think I could get into this," he told her. "I'm going to write down some names so I can download them to my iPod."

She was impressed. "You have an iPod?"

"Absolutely. When you move around as much as I've been moving these past few years, it's the only way to keep your music with you. Don't you have one?"

She shook her head.

"I thought all kids had iPods."

She picked up a CD at random and pretended to study the track listing. "They're pretty expensive," she said finally.

He was silent, and she looked up.

"It's been hard on you and your mother, hasn't it?" he asked. "Financially, I mean."

Jenna shrugged. "We manage."

"Do you?"

She looked away, and he got the message.

"I could say I'm sorry," he said. "I am sorry. But there wasn't much I could have done about that. I haven't been doing too well myself. Still, that's no excuse."

Jenna thought it was, and she wanted to make him feel better. "If you didn't have any money, you couldn't have sent us any."

He smiled. "You're a pragmatist. Just like your mother."

"What's a pragmatist?"

"Someone who's down-to-earth, sensible."

Jenna would never have used those words to describe her mother. But maybe Barbara Kelley had been different back when Stuart had known her.

"But I can afford to buy my daughter an iPod," he said suddenly. "Do they sell them here?"

"You don't have to do that," she said.

"I want to," he insisted.

But she had meant what she'd said. The thought of him suddenly showering her with gifts . . . It bothered her.

And to her utter amazement and delight, he understood. "You think I'm trying to buy your affection, don't you?"

She nodded.

He smiled sadly. "You're probably right. Well, you'll let me buy you a Coke, won't you?"

She could agree to that. They went into a cafe, and she allowed him to buy her not only a Coke but also a plate of fries to share with him. She was a little worried that he was going to start pressing her for information about herself, that he'd expect her to tell him her life story. But once again, he was cool.

He told her about his life, the adventures he'd had.

He'd been living pretty much hand to mouth for the past 13 years, but he'd been doing it in interesting ways. He'd been a porter on a train that went across the country, from New York to San Francisco. He'd washed dishes on a cruise ship. He'd been a waiter in a fancy Hollywood restaurant, and he'd seen lots of famous people in person. He'd worked on a pipeline in Alaska.

He was amazing. Other kids she knew, their fathers were lawyers, teachers, salesmen. They worked in offices, factories, ugly high rises. Tracey's father had some kind of big-and-boring business. None of them were like Stuart Kelley.

And he was better looking than any father she'd ever seen. Tracey's father was practically bald. Emily's dad had a stomach that hung over his belt. Stuart Kelley could be a movie star! Jenna hadn't missed the looks he got from women they'd passed in the mall.

Like the cashier at the cafe. She took the bill that Stuart gave her without looking at it. She couldn't take her eyes off his face.

"I hope you enjoyed your meal, sir," she gushed.

Stuart kept a perfectly straight face as he said, "It was an absolutely delicious Coca-Cola."

He was funny, Jenna thought in delight. The cashier didn't get it. She just simpered as she handed him some coins.

"Excuse me," Stuart said, looking at the change in his hand. "I think you've made a mistake. I gave you a twenty-dollar bill."

"Oh no, sir, it was a ten," the cashier said.

Stuart looked at her doubtfully. "Are you sure? I'm positive it was a twenty."

Jenna couldn't resist. She focused on the cashier and read her mind.

This is the easiest ten bucks I've ever made.

"It was a twenty," Jenna announced.

The cashier pressed her lips together tightly. A man in a white shirt with a tag that read Manager came over.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"No problem," the cashier said and took a ten-dollar bill from the drawer. "Here's your change, sir."

"Thank you," Stuart said politely.

"Did you see me give her the money?" he asked Jenna as they went back out into the mall.

"No. But I read her mind and I could see that she was trying to cheat you."

He laughed. "That's quite a talent you have, Jenna. I guess I won't have to worry about anyone trying to cheat you. Or me, while I've got you around! I think we'd better stick together. What do you think?"

"Sounds okay to me," Jenna said lightly, but she knew her smile was extending from ear to ear.

From there, they did some window-shopping, exchanging comments on fashion, books, art. Stuart had to pick up a few things at the drugstore, and they discovered they both used the same brand of toothpaste.

At one point they paused in front of a tattoo parlor, and Jenna admired the designs displayed in the window.

"Do you like tattoos?" Stuart asked.

She nodded. "I'd like to get one." She watched him carefully to gauge his reaction. Most parents she knew would go ballistic if their kids mentioned getting a tattoo.

Not Stuart. "You might want to wait a while," he said mildly. "Keep in mind that it's pretty much a permanent decision. I know they have treatments to remove them, but that's a big deal and very expensive. I thought about getting one once, a long time ago."

"What kind?" she asked.

"Nothing very original. A name in a heart." He smiled. "Barbara''.''

"I suppose you must be glad you didn't," Jenna remarked, "considering how things worked out."

"Mmm." He smiled wistfully. "Well, you never know. I still might end up with one sometime."

Just any tattoo? Jenna wondered. Or Barbara, in a heart? But she didn't dare ask him. It was too much to hope for.

"Look," he said, "they sell temporary ones. Let's check them out."

They went inside and looked at the various types of press-on tattoos available. Jenna admired a sheet composed of letters and various borders.

"This is cool--you can design your own," she said. "And it says they last at least a week. You could try something, and after a week, if you still like it, you could get a real one tattooed over it."

"Good idea," Stuart agreed. He picked up a sheet and took it to the checkout counter. As they waited in line, he whispered to Jenna, "Keep an eye on the exchange. I don't want you to have to waste your mind-reading skills on me again!"