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Ike supposed it was time for his dad to move on. Mom had died ages ago, after all; he hardly remembered her, and probably wouldn't if it weren't for the ridiculously stupid VHS tapes that his dad kept on a shelf in the den.
Mist wasn't sure she agreed, but Mist was hanging out with Titania shopping for back-to-school clothes.
Ike was sipping a Coke and trying to ignore the fact that his dad was flirting with the woman sitting next to them.
Soren's wretched family gathering was suddenly sounding really appealing. If nothing else, the drama that happened when Soren's family got together had absolutely nothing to do with Ike; that automatically put it a step above listening to his dad's pathetic attempts at flirting.
Well, maybe they weren't pathetic, but they were… Well…
They were just kind of sad, really.
Not that Ike knew a lot. Nobody cared much about the high school baseball star, after all.
But even Ike knew that the awkward attempts at flirting that were coming from his dad were—well, awkward. Wrong. Stupid. Embarrassing. Terrible. Ike was certain that he could do better.
The woman eventually got off the subway to Ike's relief.
"I was hoping she'd get off at our stop," his dad said.
"Not a chance."
"What makes you say that?"
"I don't think she was interested in a single dad. She was, like, half Titania's age."
"No, no way."
"Yes way. Why don't you just go out with Titania? She's nice." And tolerable. As far as Ike was concerned, Titania was the only acceptable date for his dad. "And she worships the ground you walk on."
"That would be awkward."
Ike tuned out the rest of the spiel: Titania had been friends with both of Ike's parents and for some reason that would make it all extremely awkward. Ike didn't know much about dating, let alone sex, but he was pretty sure that it wasn't that big of a deal.
An hour later, they were sitting at a bar together; Ike had a new Coke to drink while his dad watched something not-baseball on the corner TV. He wished fervently for Mist and Titania's company; he'd rather be parading in and out of dressing rooms than stuck here at the bar with his dad.
He loved his dad, and the food was good, but…
There was a woman there.
Not just any woman, though.
This was the woman. She was tall and carried herself like she had spent ninety percent of her life in the military—or maybe prison. (Ike wasn't sure, and he definitely didn't want to find out the truth.) This was the woman that would turn his dad's head in less than five seconds flat.
And to Ike's horror, she sat down…right next to him.
Two seconds later, he heard his dad say under his breath, "What a babe."
And Ike thought that term had probably died out a quarter-century ago, wished the floor would swallow him, and pretended that he was invisible.
It worked—pretending he was invisible.
His dad almost acted as if he wasn't there. Oh, sure, he introduced himself, and his strapping young son, and the woman gave him something that probably passed for a smile (if one were suffering torture and had a moment where there was less pain being inflicted), but it was almost as if Ike wasn't there.
He sipped loudly on his Coke and tried to tune out both of them.
It didn't work.
The woman's name was Petrine, and she did something-or-another for a living that Ike's dad thought was especially fascinating. He proudly regaled poor Ms. Petrine with tales of his very exciting shipping company. Ike wasn't sure if either of them found the other especially interesting, or if they were both pathetically bored and/or sexually frustrated.
Personally, Ike didn't care either way; he just wanted to go home, crawl under the covers, and run his character past the daycare five billion zillion times in the hopes of hatching a shiny. (He had to do this under the blankets or Mist would realize what he was doing and make fun of him for the next ten years.)
Ike was startled out of his evening plans by his father asking a very interesting question:
"How 'bout we go back to my place?"
Petrine's expression, Ike felt, mirrored his own exactly: open mouth, eyebrows raised in surprise. He was sure that Petrine, too, was screaming internally—maybe in confusion or horror or both.
Ike was not prepared for the winning smile that his dad threw Petrine. And neither was Petrine, it seemed, for she looked taken aback and Ike felt slightly betrayed.
But then Ike's dad drove the final nail in the coffin with, "I've got board games."
"Oh my God," was all Ike could say.
But to Ike's surprise, Petrine was not already halfway to the door. Instead, she leaned forward on the counter, a coy expression on her face. Ike was sure if Petrine came back to their place, there would be no sleep for anyone.
He wondered if Titania would take he and Mist in for a night or two or however long it would take for Petrine to go away.
"Twister?" she asked.
Greil shook his head. "Parcheesi," he said. "Oh, and Candyland. But if you're the type of woman who digs card games, we do have Uno."
Petrine gave him the most frightening grin that Ike had ever seen on the face of a human being, and slid off of her stool. "Sorry," she said.
"Pardon?" Ike's dad asked.
"The game."
"I don't know that one."
"And I'm sorry that you don't. Or we might have had areally snappy night tonight. Goodbye, Greil. It was nice meeting you."
Ike tuned the rest out. Mist would never believe any of this. Not a word of it.
"Board games, Dad?" he asked when Petrine was gone.
"What sophisticated woman doesn't enjoy a nice game of Parcheesi?"
"I, uhm…don't know. Maybe you should ask Titania that question."
Titania would laugh herself into an early grave, Ike thought.
"Hey, Dad?"
"What?"
"Next time you decide to pick up a, uh, new lady friend, can you leave me with anyone else?"