Three Little Words Read Online Free PDF Page B

soon as he opens the door, he has a feeling he’s not going to get his shower anytime soon.
    â€œSid?” Megan’s voice comes from what used to be the dining room, and is now what Caleb calls Megan’s War Room and Spa. Part office, part craft room, part retreat. If Megan is in there with the door shut, she is not to be disturbed unless the house is on fire. Usually the door is open, as it is now.
    â€œWe’re in here, honey,” she calls. Honey ? Definitely something going on. Megan hasn’t called him honey since he was six.
    When he walks into the dining room, everyone stands up, as if he is a visiting dignitary. There are only three people in the room—Megan, Caleb and a middle-aged man who is now moving toward Sid with his hand outstretched.
    Sid shakes the man’s hand—firmly, but not too firmly, as Caleb has taught him—and steps back. “Where’s Fariza?” he asks.
    â€œNapping,” Megan says. “She had a bad day. Sid, this is Phil. He’s come up from Victoria to see you.”
    â€œMe?”
    Megan nods.
    â€œWhy?” Sid turns back to Phil. “I don’t know you, do I?” He looks at the man more closely, searching for something familiar. Phil is short—maybe five foot five—and muscular. He’s wearing a tight white T-shirt and soft loose jeans, the kind with a loop to hang a hammer. He is completely bald. Sid suppresses a laugh. Phil looks like Mr. Clean, if Mr. Clean had been put in a hot dryer.
    Phil clears his throat, and Sid realizes the man is nervous. More accurately, Sid is making the man nervous. This happens rarely enough that Sid almost enjoys it, although he feels kind of sorry for the guy too.
    â€œPhil has something to tell you, Sid,” Caleb says. “Why don’t we all sit down?”
    â€œI’ll get some tea,” Megan says, rushing out of the room.
    Now it’s Sid’s turn to be nervous. He sits on the edge of one of the dining-room chairs, suddenly aware that his board shorts are still damp. He can’t imagine what this stranger wants to tell him. Well, that’s not exactly true. He can imagine it. He’s been imagining it—and dreading it—for fourteen years. His very own Darth Vader moment. A strange man turns up and says, “Sid, I am your father.” But surely there would be something—even something small, like an unnaturally long big toe or a crooked incisor—that Sid would recognize. He glances down at Phil’s beat-up Nikes. No help there. And Phil isn’t smiling as he sits down opposite Sid and clears his throat again.
    â€œIt’s beautiful up here,” he says. Sid nods. “Great place to grow up, eh?”
    Sid nods again. Sweat has started to bead up under his hairline and trickle down his back. He itches to jump in the shower and stay there until this midget disappears. Megan comes back into the room with a tray full of tea things. Phil dumps some milk into his tea; Sid takes a swig from his water bottle.
    â€œDo you remember your mother?” Phil asks.
    Sid shakes his head. “Not really. Just her hair.”
    â€œHer hair was beautiful,” Phil says.
    â€œWas?”
    â€œShe shaved it off a few years ago, when she started to go gray.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œNot very talkative, are you, son?” Phil says.
    â€œNope. And I’m not your son. Caleb’s my dad.”
    Phil puts down his mug and sits back in his chair. He exhales forcefully, like one of the sea lions on the rocks in the cove. A very small sea lion.
    â€œNo, you’re not my son. And I know Caleb is your dad. I’m a friend of your mother’s, of Devorah’s.”
    â€œDid she send you?” Sid croaks, his mouth suddenly dry.
    â€œNo. I don’t know where she is.”
    â€œThen why are you here?”
    â€œI thought she might have come here. Looking for you.”
    â€œWhy now?”
    Phil shrugs.