Glen Panama parked in front of a nondescript 1970’s split-level bungalow located on Tesson Place in Toronto’s east end, the house he shared with his wife and daughter Athena whom he just picked up from playing ringette. Being the daughter of a private investigator you learn there are always reasons behind a person’s actions. Her father had parked in front of their home so he would not be blocked in by her mother who had yet to come home. Athena knew her father would be going out later. 

 

“Dad, will you be making dinner?” asked Athena. 

 

“I’ve time to make dinner. What would you like, or would you rather I ordered a pizza?” 

 

“Macaroni and cheese with tuna! Can you please make that?” 

 

“Mac and cheese it is.” 

 

“Don’t forget the tuna. It’s not the same without tuna.” 

 

“I won’t forget the tuna,” said Glen as he smiled. 

 

Veronica, Glen’s wife of 16 years, walked into the kitchen just as he was taking dinner out of the oven. Her timing could not have been better Glen thought to himself, just like when she came into his life 18 years ago. On a rainy spring Sunday afternoon Glen had walked into a used bookstore on Bloor Street, just east of Spadina Road, hoping to find a secondhand copy of Norman Mailer’s Ancient Evenings, and there was Veronica behind the cash register engrossed in a textbook; Canadian Human Resource Management if he recalled correctly. Veronica looked up and gave him the kind of smile Hollywood is still looking. Veronica’s classic chiseled Greek features, high cheekbones, mini-pillow lips were just window dressing to her smile.  

 

“I see you made dinner. Looks to be Athena’s favorite.” 

“As per her request said Glen and he place the baking dish in the middle of the kitchen table.

 

Veronica dropped her purse on the counter, walked over to Glen and gave him a full lip kiss. 

 

“How’s your sister?” asked Glen.

“She’s fine. She and George are planning a trip to New York City in late November, get in some Christmas shopping, see a few sites. She asked if we’d be interested in going with them.”

“Lets see what my schedule’s like around then. Of course you and Athena can go, with her marks missing a few days of school would be okay.”

“Fine, we’ll play it by ear.” said Veronica with obvious indignation. “I noticed you parked in the street.”

“I have to go out after dinner and…” 

“You do what you have to do.”

 

Veronica’s resentment at what he did for a living was getting old for Glen. It’s not as if he had a mid-life crisis and thought becoming a private investigator would recapture his youth. When Veronica agreed to marry Glen she knew she was marrying a PI. She knew the unconventional hours he would be working and traveling. What Veronica was not prepared for was how the job played with Glen’s head.  

 

“Unlike you,” Glen said in a low voice, “I don’t have the luxury of sitting in an office all day pushing pieces of paper and finishing at five o’clock, having weekends off. Instead of giving me…” 

 

“Don’t give me that crap! There was a time I thought you’d want to have a stable home life for me and Athena. I prayed you’d want to get into a line of work that was safe. You are 57 years old! When are you going to stop playing cowboys and Indians?”   

 

Veronica was visibly upset. She was trying to control herself from breaking down and crying. As to be expected the constant fear of losing Glen made Veronica upset; anger never really entered into the equation. A blend of fear and disappointment that Glen did not seem to take her fears seriously fueled these talks.

 

“I am who I am. You knew that from day one. I cannot help what you though would happen. Why is it woman think they can change a man? I am not a piece of clay that you can mold.” 

 

“I am not trying to mold you. All I want is for you to be safe and happy. I see what your work does to you. Every day I see it and every day I worry I’ll become a widow. You are so damn lucky I love you as much as I do. Believe me no other woman would have put up with this as long as I have.” 

 

Glen walked towards the open patio door and look out at the few wilted corn stalks left in their vegetable garden. Their heirloom tomatoes had been especially sweet this year. Glen knew his next words needed to be well thought out. He was, and surely Veronica was too, tired of having this conversation.

 

“Are the Grymski’s not home?” Glen asked as he walked to the front of the house to look out the living room’s bay window, “I saw their cars in their driveway.” 

 

“The Grymski’s? What about them?” 

 

“Steve’s not barbequing. Yeah, his and Wanda’s car are parked in their driveway. Weird.” 

 

“Oh for Christ sake!” yelled Veronica from the kitchen, “Maybe they’re having mac and cheese too.” 

 

Glen walked back into the kitchen.

 

“Well if they are, you can bet Steve would be making it on their barbeque.” 

 

“Can you forget Steve not barbequing and focus on us?” 

 

“Com’on Veronica, it has not been all bad has it? Sure it’s been somewhat of a roller coaster, but over all it has been okay, right?” 

 

While wiping her tears away with a tissue Veronica looked at Glen wondering if he was making an attempt to be funny.  

 

“Remember when you got shot four years ago?”

“Yeah, of course I remember, that punk from Cleveland.” 

 

“You could have been killed and Athena would be without her father. Is that what you want? I have not been the same since that night. I will not even go into the numerous times you come home bloodied and bruised.” Veronica tried to compose herself before continuing. “… and you never talk about what’s bothering you and what you’re feeling. You keep everything bottled up inside. You’d rather talk about Steve not barbequing! I want to help you. I want to know what goes on with you when you leave this house.” 

 

“You have to admit in the twelve years they’ve been next door Steve has been barbequing in all kinds of weather. It’s as if he lives to barbeque. It’s almost 6 o’clock on a gorgeous warm evening and Steve’s not out barbequing?” 

 

“Forget it… you just want to avoid. Let’s just eat so you can go and do whatever it is you have to do.” 

 

“You want to know what I do all day,” Glen asked in a low voice, “what I deal with.” 

 

Veronica nodded as she sat down at the kitchen table.  

 

“I have always wanted to know. After all these years I think I earned the right to know.” 

 

“A few weeks back a couple hired me to find their daughter who they believed ran away. They presumed she was going after her boyfriend whose family had moved out to Vancouver. To make a long story short she never went out to Vancouver, turns out she’s been squatting in an abandoned farmhouse north of Goodwood.”

 

“Something about her home life that she’d resort to squatting?”

 

“That’s exactly what I was thinking. I did a background check on the parents. Found out the father has a history of violent behavior. I talked to a few of her friends, several claims she’d come to school with bruises.”

 

“So the father wants you to find his daughter…”

 

“Step daughter actually.”

 

“So he can continue to use her for a punching bag?”

 

“So many things are going through my head with this. My meeting later is with the parents to air out a few things. Right now I’m not comfortable telling them where they can find their daughter.”

 

“You met her?”

 

“Yeah. Sixteen, not much older than Athena. “Are the Grymski’s not home?” Glen asked as he walked to the front of the house to look out the living room’s bay window, “I saw their cars in their driveway.” 

 

“The Grymski’s? What about them?” 

 

“Steve’s not barbequing. Yeah, his and Wanda’s car are parked in their driveway. Weird.” 

 

“Oh for Christ sake!” yelled Veronica from the kitchen, “Maybe they’re having mac and cheese too.” 

 

Glen walked back into the kitchen.

 

“Well if they are, you can bet Steve would be making it on their barbeque.” 

 

“Can you forget Steve not barbequing and focus on us?” 

 

“Com’on Veronica, it has not been all bad has it? Sure it’s been somewhat of a roller coaster, but over all it has been okay, right?” 

  

While wiping her tears away with a tissue Veronica looked at Glen wondering if he was making an attempt to be funny.  

 

“Remember when you got shot four years ago?”

“Yeah, of course I remember, that punk from Cleveland.” 

 

“You could have been killed and Athena would be without her father. Is that what you want? I have not been the same since that night. I will not even go into the numerous times you come home bloodied and bruised.” Veronica tried to compose herself before continuing. “… and you never talk about what’s bothering you and what you’re feeling. You keep everything bottled up inside. You’d rather talk about Steve not barbequing! I want to help you. I want to know what goes on with you when you leave this house.” 

 

“You have to admit in the twelve years they’ve been next door Steve has been barbequing in all kinds of weather. It’s as if he lives to barbeque. It’s almost 6 o’clock on a gorgeous warm evening and Steve’s not out barbequing?” 

 

“Forget it… you just want to avoid. Let’s just eat so you can go and do whatever it is you have to do.” 

 

“You want to know what I do all day,” Glen asked in a low voice, “what I deal with.” 

  

Veronica nodded as she sat down at the kitchen table.  

  

“I have always wanted to know. After all these years I think I earned the right to know.” 

 

“A few weeks back a couple hired me to find their daughter who they believed ran away. They presumed she was going after her boyfriend whose family had moved out to Vancouver. To make a long story short she never went out to Vancouver, turns out she’s been squatting in an abandoned farmhouse north of Goodwood.”

 

“Something about her home life that she’d resort to squatting?”

 

“That’s exactly what I was thinking. I did a background check on the parents. Found out the father has a history of violent behavior. I talked to a few of her friends, several claims she’d come to school with bruises.”

 

“So the father wants you to find his daughter…”

 

“Step daughter actually.”

 

“So he can continue to use her for a punching bag?”

 

“So many things are going through my head with this. My meeting later is with the parents to air out a few things. Right now I’m not comfortable telling them where they can find their daughter.”

 

“You met her?”

 

“Yeah. Sixteen, not much older than Athena. Hadn’t bathed in God knows how long, looked hungry. I gave her a few bucks.”

 

“You tell her who you are?”

 

“No. Told her I was a real estate agent who happen to see the rundown farmhouse from the road on my way to a friend in Port Perry. Seem to buy my story.”

 

As Veronica digested what Glen just told her Athena, who had been reading in her room, walked into the kitchen. 

  

“Is dinner ready? I’m so hungry.” 

 

“It just came out of the oven”, said Glen. “Your mother and I were just catching up. Once you’ve set the table we can start eating.”

 

Glen walked back to the bay window.

 

“We always said we should invite Steve and Wanda over for Thanksgiving dinner. Why not invite them this year?” Glen said out loud.

 

“Thanksgiving is a week away. If they’re available I can set 2 more plates, there’ll be plenty of food.”

“After we’ve eaten I’ll go over and invite them.”