“She’s the house manager. Has been since I was born. She’s like what we have now instead of a parent, kinda.”
“But she doesn’t live with you?” “No, she leaves every day at six, so not that much like a parent.”
Davis unlocked the doors. Daisy got in the backseat and told me to take shotgun.
As I walked around the front of the car, I noticed Lyle standing next to his golf cart.
He was talking to a man raking up the first fallen leaves of autumn, but staring at Davis and me.
“Just gonna drop these two off,” Davis told him. “Be safe, boss,” Lyle answered.
Once the car doors were closed, he said, “Everyone is always watching me. It’s exhausting.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. Davis opened his mouth as if to speak, seemed to think better of it, and then, a moment later, continued.
“Like, you know how in middle school or whatever you feel like everyone is looking at you all the time and secretly talking about you?
It’s like that middle-school feeling, only people really are looking at me and whispering about me.”
“Maybe they think you know where your dad is,” Daisy said. “Well, I don’t. And I don’t want to.” He said it firmly, unshakably.
“Why not?” Daisy asked. I was watching Davis as he spoke, and I saw something in his face flicker without quite going out.
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