Days That End in Y Read Online Free PDF Page A

here.
    Mattie sits at my computer, and I sit on the bed behind her. It feels safer to let her do the typing, as if I’m just an innocent bystander and have nothing to do with it.
    “What’s his name?”
    “Bill Davies. I don’t know his middle name.”
    “Do you think he goes by Bill or William?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Let’s look up William Davies first.”
    Over three million results pop up. This is going to be more difficult than I thought.
    “We have to narrow it somehow,” Mattie says.
    “He lives in Vancouver. Maybe type in ‘Bill Davies, Vancouver.’”
    Mattie types the words in as requested. Still way too many hits to go through, but definitely less than three million. The first three entries that pop up are a LinkedIn profile, an obituary and a movie database listing for an actor.
    “Which one should we check first?”
    “Go to the actor.”
    “Good idea. Maybe you get your love of acting from him,” Mattie says, optimistic as ever.
    But Bill Davies the actor turns out to be a twenty-six-year-old black man.
    “Obviously not. Try the LinkedIn profile.”
    That also ends up being a bust. The Bill Davies listed there is too old and doesn’t look a thing like my father does in his high school photos.
    “Remember that people change,” Mattie points out.
    “That man’s face is an entirely different shape, he has red hair and he’s at least ten years too old.”
    Mattie sighs. “I know. I’m just trying to be positive. Do you want me to check the obituary?”
    I hesitate. Even if I’ve never met him, I’m not sure I want to find out whether or not my father is dead just yet. I take a deep breath, gripping the back of the computer chair so hard my knuckles turn bone white. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
    According to the obituary, the Bill Davies who died last Saturday was eighty-four years old and left behind two children and six grandkids in Surrey, B.C. I let out a big sigh.
    “That’s a relief,” Mattie says. “Do you know anything else about him?”
    “I think Denise said he worked in sales.”
    So Mattie types in
“Bill Davies” Vancouver, sales
. Two lawyers, a photographer and a police report pop-up. A quick check proves that none of these men are the right Bill, either.
    “This is impossible,” I sigh. “There are too many Bill Davieses in the world.”
    “Don’t give up so quickly!”
    “What’s the point? What am I going to do, email him?”
    Mattie thinks about it for a moment. “Maybe. Or maybe you can just read about him and move on.”
    “What do you mean, move on? It’s not like he’s holding me back. I barely think about him. It’s just these stupid yearbooks.”
    “Maybe …” Mattie begins, then she trails off.
    “Maybe what?”
    “Or maybe the yearbooks are a sign.”
    “What kind of sign?”
    “A sign that you are meant to look him up. Why else would you find them now? They’ve been in your house forever.”
    “That’s crazy. They turned up because we were cleaning.”
    “Maybe, maybe not. Let’s try Facebook.”
    Next Mattie signs into Facebook and searches for his name. Not surprisingly, there are tons of Bill Davies from all over the world. It’s hard to tell from the little profile pictures that pop up, but none of them look anything like the picture in the yearbook.
    “Maybe he doesn’t like the internet,” Mattie says. “My Aunt Karen moved to Vancouver and now she lives on an organic farm that uses solar power to heat the water. She hates cell phones and microwaves because she thinks they give you cancer. Maybe your dad is one of those back-to-the-earth types.”
    “I doubt it. The way Denise described him, he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who goes for solar power and electric cars and all that.”
    Mattie sighs, crestfallen. “I’m sorry this was so useless.”
    “It’s not your fault. Like you said, maybe this is a sign. Only this time the sign is telling me to forget it.”
    Mattie frowns. “That’s the most