Daylight Saving by Edward Hogan Read Free Book Online Page A

head.
    “It’s just a game of tennis,” he said. “It’s not the hardest thing in the world, you know.”
    “I’m sorry. We were just riding around. Me and my mates,” I said. “I lost track of the time.”
    “You’re a bad liar, Daniel. I can always tell.”
    He was right about that.
Did you see your mother with another man?
    “You were with a girl, weren’t you?” he said.
    “No,” I said.
    “I can read all the signs. This moody behavior. Missing appointments with your family. Not enjoying life. All the classic signs. Trust me, I know.”
    “Why are you asking me if you already know?”
    “Maybe this whole trip was a bad idea. You don’t want to be here. Maybe we should just go home,” he said.
    “No,” I said.
    He snorted. “Yup. A girl. Well, take it from me, Daniel. Don’t waste your time.”
    I started to walk toward my bedroom, thinking about what Lexi had said about the anger and the hate in men. About the desire.
    “I don’t know why you have to be so miserable all the time,” I said.
    “Oh, well, take a look around,” he said. “What’s to be so happy about? You leave me here, on my own, with a tomato plant and a pair of lesbians.”
    I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It was just a little chuckle that burst out and then stopped. I looked up. Dad was smirking, too. He turned away and tried to hide it. “Tomato plant and a couple of lesbians,” he whispered, shaking his head.
    “That should be the title of your autobiography,” I said.
    He laughed.
    “By the way,” I said, “I’ve arranged a game of volleyball with Chrissy and Tash for tomorrow on the beach.”
    “Really?” he said. He frowned. “OK. Might be fun, I suppose. Bit cold.”
    “I remember you playing when we were on holiday in Spain. You’re good.”
    He looked out the window and into his past. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m all right.”
    Dad went through to the kitchen area, and after a moment, I followed him, to get a drink of water. He was staring, perplexed, at the tomato plant. “What the bloody hell . . . ?” he said.
    I saw that the plant had changed again. The tomatoes had shrunk, their skin had tightened. Most of them were half green and half orange.
32, 31, 30,
I thought. I knew then that there were forces in the world that I would never understand. Perhaps I didn’t want to understand them.
    Dad and I went to the Tropical Dome. We swam separately, Dad for ten minutes before he got out and sat on the lounger with his cup of coffee. He wasn’t exactly happy, but we weren’t fighting. I swam deep into the main pool and started counting again, plugging my heartbeat into the rhythm of the strokes, imagining Lexi’s body folding under the water. The outside noises faded until I couldn’t hear anything but the rumble of my blood.
    Flashes came to me of Lexi’s face, the marks on her temple, the soft blending rainbow of her black eye. There were boys back at school who liked that kind of thing: girls getting roughed up. They looked at pictures on their phones. I wasn’t one of those guys, and the thought of Lexi’s injuries tore into me; it felt like my stomach was bleeding. I pulled myself deeper into the water, until the images went away, and I felt a brightness around my body.
    When I rose up out of that suspended state, I saw that the sky beyond the Dome was dark with storm clouds and rain was hitting the glass. I peered up through the palm leaves. The green on the gray. Steam rose up from the Jacuzzis. Over on the lounger, I saw Dad reach into his bag, take out a miniature bottle of whiskey, and pour a good glug into his coffee. He glanced around to make sure nobody had seen. Like a boy. I got out and put on my T-shirt.
    “Easy, Dan,” said Ryan. “You certainly can move in the water, buddy. Serious.”
    “Hi, Ryan, thanks,” I said.
I’ve got a good teacher,
I thought, picturing Lexi’s gliding strokes.
    “Your dad OK today? I see he left his sneakers at home.”
    “Yeah,” I said.