When he had finally sauntered close enough to speak, Tina heard no basic human warmth in the voice, just a built-in bitterness toward life in general. He leaned down as he spoke, “You just chillin’, or looking for some action?” he said.
“I’m waiting for my Father,” Tina managed to say. That earlier tap-tap of doubt became a painful thud that she was sure he could hear.
He peered at her through the open window. “Have I seen you somewhere before?”
“In a rainbow-ringed mirror,” she said silently. Aloud she asked, “Do you have any children?”
“In a rainbow-ringed mirror,” she said silently. Aloud she asked, “Do you have any children?”
His reply came out in a guttural sound, “In my business women try to nail me with paternity suits all the time.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” she said boldly. Do I have any brothers or sisters? she wanted to ask.
He straightened up as if he was about to move away from the car. “My wife never had any children.”
“Do you remember Rosa Haigler?” Tina asked rudely. Nothing was coming out the way she had rehearsed it. And what an opening line for a man to give his never-before-seen grown daughter, “Just chillin’ or looking for some action.”