Chapter_31_What_Happe

Over our breakfast buffet the next morning, as Biz scoops up a pile of lukewarm, rubbery scrambled eggs and slides them onto his plate with a wince, we both realize after last night that the tone of our trip and Vegas itself are two very different animals.

Biz is grateful, at least, for a night of fun, with tequila headaches as our cheap souvenirs. I’m feeling guilty that I’ve made a lot of our trip all about me.

“You don’t have to join me today,” I say, biting into a toasted everything bagel with scallion cream cheese, savoring the first bite of the morning.

This isn’t a test. I really want Biz to have fun doing his own thing. Even though deep down inside I want him to join me. I just don’t know what to expect.

“It’s totally up to you?” Biz says. “On one hand, it seems like a very big deal to meet your estranged dad after all these years, and I can understand you wanting alone time with him...”

“And on the other hand, it would be nice to have you there for support,” I finish his sentence.

“I’m here for you either way. You know that,” Biz says. “Are you sure he’s here?”

I pull the envelope out of my shorts pocket and smooth it out on the table in between our plates of food.

As my father’s address sits between us, we both grow anxious, unable to eat the rest of our food. We just stare at the only evidence that my father is somewhere nearby.

We spend the morning inside the hotel gym—I jog on a treadmill and Biz works up a sweat on an elliptical machine. Both of us want to work out any nervous jitters. But really I’m just delaying the inevitable.

Watching some of the older, seen-it-all employees on the casino floor that we pass by on the way back to our room—the blackjack dealers, the cocktail servers, the pit bosses—I wonder if my father knows any of them.

Freshly showered, holding two bottles of green juice and with a clear head, I sit next to a tranquil koi pond in the grand lobby while waiting for Biz. A clutch of bachelorettes wearing swimsuits with pastel-colored “Bride-To-Be” and “Bridesmaid” sashes noisily stomps by in their bejeweled flip-flops and French pedicures, laughing and talking in outdoor voices, disrupting my calm vibe.

After they pass, I take in the serenity of the nearby mini waterfall and let my eyes wander until I spot a turtle swimming upstream in the pond on its own. The little guy struggles along among a sea of homogenous koi fish. Just him against the elements. Am I this turtle?

Biz dings out of an elevator and approaches with a sympathetic smile.

“I think maybe I should go alone,” I decide, standing and handing Biz his green juice.

“Are you sure?” Biz asks, sipping his juice, thinking this through.

“Yeah, I’m like a lone turtle,” I say, referencing my new koi pond friend.

“Turtle?” Biz asks.

“Long story. Anyway, our meeting could go a million different ways. If it goes well, I could introduce you later, if we decide to keep in touch. I don’t know. This whole thing is strange. I’m just showing up at his house unannounced. If two strangers show up, it might be too much,” I explain.

“Totally agree,” Biz says. “You can bring me into the relationship if and when you’re ready. Assess the situation first.”

“I’ll only be a couple hours,” I tell Biz, anxiety setting in that I’m actually doing this.

“Perfect. Maybe I’ll just sit by the pool, and we can have a late lunch when you’re back.”

I fill with nerves. I’d rather sit by a pool.

“Do you want one of Patrick’s gummies? It’ll relax you.” Biz dangles the plastic baggie full of edibles that Patrick gave him.

Outside, waiting for the valet to bring Virginia Woolf around, I notice my mom called again. She left four voicemails and at least as many texts asking to call her back. But I know if I call her, she’ll probe and I’d have to reveal what we’re doing in Vegas. Mom can wait.

It only takes thirty minutes to drive to Henderson, a residential area just outside of downtown Vegas. Every few minutes I hear a new sound: woob woob woob. I make a mental note to get the car checked out once and for all.

Now without Biz, Matilda and Pancake, I feel alone. They are my ever-increasing pack, with a new member about to join. I think of the gummy I took at the hotel and realize it’s not doing anything to relax me. Then again, those things never work for me.

GPS lady tells me I’ll arrive in four minutes, so I decide to touch base with my anchors.

I steer the wheel with my knee and text. I’m a hypocrite for telling Biz not to do this. I send a quick message to Flora in our group text.

WYATT

Everything good?

She texts back immediately.

FLORA

All good. Seeing the doctor again in a couple days.

Biz and I text back heart and prayer emojis.

It’s another ninety-degree day so I hope Biz is enjoying the pool. I text him separately.

WYATT

Almost here. I’m nervous.

BIZ

ur fine just breathe is the gummy helping????

WYATT

Not at all. Don’t feel a thing.

BIZ

weird CBD never works for u

WYATT

Ugh. What if he’s a hateful monster like my mom always said?

BIZ

lower your expectations

WYATT

Good idea. You’re the best. I love you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

BIZ

ur literally without me now

WYATT

Oh. True.

I love you.

BIZ

love u too

I turn right onto Sahara Plains Boulevard—my father’s street—and slow down; I feel my heart racing through my T-shirt with my production company’s logo printed on the front pocket. Sweat forms around my hairline, either from nerves or the heat or both. My jaw clenches.

There’s no turning back.

It’s time for some closure. Or at least the next step in the evolution of my relationship with the man who left us.

I park on the curb, three houses away. Looks like my father lives in a nice two-story home built in the seventies. I need another two to forty-five minutes to steel myself before pulling into the driveway of my long-lost father, unannounced, after not seeing him for almost thirty years.

And then it hits me. The gummy, that is.

I feel fuzzy, euphoric, suddenly happy—almost giddy. I hold in an uncontrollable giggle and let it out in a huge guffaw. Holy shit. Was this the CBD, I wonder? It’s making me feel good. Too good. I’m completely high.

Something nags inside my mouth. I make a face like the grimace emoji and check my teeth in the rearview mirror. There’s a stubborn poppy seed, leftover from breakfast, stuck between my two bottom right incisors.

“Hi, I’m your son!” I say out loud with a goofy accent, the prominent seed staring back at me like I’m missing my front tooth. I laugh way too hard at my own joke. Then I explode into a giggle fit over the idea of meeting my father totally high with my mouth full of poppy seeds.

It’s too hilarious to comprehend.

I try plucking out the poppy seed with my tongue, then my finger, and then finally, the corner of the envelope that contains my father’s letter. That does the trick.

I text Biz.

WYATT

What did you give me?

BIZ

huh?????? the gummy why

WYATT

Feels like more than just CBD. Are you sure it was CBD?

BIZ

that’s what patrick told me

WYATT

Okay. Going. In.

BIZ

wait are u ok????????

WYATT

I’m fine. I think. Just kind of hilarious that I’m doing this.

BIZ

maybe wait in the car til it wears off

WYATT

Nah. I’m good.

BIZ

u sure???

WYATT

Yes. What’s the best that could happen?

*whore

*whores

*worse

*worst!!!

Even my autocorrect is high, I think.

BIZ

oyyyyyyy ok im there with u in spirit

WYATT

Love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I stab out three heart emojis, as if declaring my love to my spouse back home, before going into battle. Biz sends me back a kissy face emoji and a photo of the gorgeous pool.

WYATT

Looks gross.

BIZ

disgusting

WYATT

Pure filth.

BIZ

garbage trash of a pool—how do people live like this???????

A guttural, hysterical laugh emerges from the depths of my core. I can’t stop laughing.

BIZ

keep me posted!!!!!

WYATT

I will!

I’ll be fine. I think.