The Ghost Runner by Blair Richmond

deserved it. And I sure don’t deserve to be alive right now, the way I treated you back then. That night, I was drunk and I was dangerous. You had every right to take that gun away from me, and I had no right to attack you. When I came to in the hospital and remembered what happened, how screwed up my life had become, how bad I treated you, I knew things had to change. I had to get my life together.” He takes a drink of water. “And so I did. I sobered up. I got a job. I started to pay off the credit cards, even put a bit away. Then I set out to find you.”
    â€œThat investigator,” I say. “You hired him, didn’t you?”
    â€œYep. And he found you, all right. Your boyfriend Roman gave him a hell of a scare.”
    â€œRoman’s not my boyfriend.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œNot anymore,” I say. Then, just so he’ll know that I do have someone looking out for me, I add, “I’m with someone else now.”
    â€œReally? My, my, you sure have taken this town by storm.” He smiles. “I’d love to meet him sometime.”
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    â€œThat’s fine, too. Whatever you want. What I most want is to spend time with you.”
    â€œWhy? You’ve never wanted that in your life.”
    â€œI want to be a better father before it’s too late. Heck, it’s already too late. Look at you. You’re all grown up, with a job and school and boyfriends lining up out the door.”
    I’m not sure how to interpret all this. I hate the fact that everything he knows about me comes from having an investigator follow me around, and I hate the fact that no matter what I do, I can’t seem to outrun him. I feel long-dormant anger bubbling below the surface, and I can’t bring myself to smile in return.
    â€œDid you ever love Mom?” I ask. “Or me, for that matter?”
    His face clouds over. “Of course I did. I know I did a lousy job of showing it. You may be grown up, but you’re still too young to understand what it’s like—losing a job, having people to support, not knowing how. After I lost that last logging job I didn’t know what to do. I never should’ve turned to the bottle, and I’ll regret that the rest of my life.”
    â€œI do know what it’s like to struggle, Dad,” I tell him. “I’ve had to do that my whole life, thanks to you.”
    â€œI know, Katie. I could ask you to forgive me until my dying days, and if I have to, I will. But I hope you can forgive me sometime before that. I’d really like to have a second chance.”
    â€œYou’re long past second chances, Dad.”
    â€œI know,” he says. “I’ll settle for any chance.”
    Our food arrives, saving me from having to answer. I notice that he’s ordered the same meal I’m having—angel hair pasta in marinara sauce—which is a surprise for someone who’s always been a meat-and-potatoes guy. I still don’t know what to say, so I focus on my pasta. I know that, from the outside looking in, we’re a perfectly normal pair—a father and daughter having a meal together. But from the inside looking out, I can’t help but search for my father’s motive, for the angle that he’s playing. With my father, there’s always an angle.
    So I decide that I should just ask. “How long will you be in town?”
    â€œAs long as it takes.”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œFor us to be a family again.”
    I put down my fork. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
    â€œI’m not, Katie. I gave up the apartment in Houston, sold a bunch of stuff so I could come out here. I’ve got a little apartment I’m renting in town. Ain’t much to look at, just a temporary place. And I’m going to get a job.”
    Suddenly I feel the way I had in Houston—stifled. “I came here to be on my own,” I tell