Read When Dad Came Back for Free Online Page A

into his mouth, and the cellophane wrapper lay discarded between his shoes.
    The little kid looked up, indifferent to Gabe's presence. His eyes were brown and flat as pennies. He kept chewing, a crumb falling from his lower lip.
    â€œLittle thief,” Gabe muttered.
    The little kid turned his back to Gabe and continued to fatten himself on stolen Oreos.
    With the fan blowing hard, Gabe left the dollar bill under the ashtray on the counter. He figured he would pay what he owed and let the owner keep the two pennies.
    At home, Gabe played the message machine. Coach Rodriguez informed him about a practice game that night with a team from Kerman. Practice started at 6:00 p.m.—sharp!
    When Gabe phoned his mother at work, he had to leave a message. He ate two bologna sandwiches with a pile of chili-flavored Fritos and watched television. He then remembered the round steak in the freezer. He pulled it out, set it on the kitchen counter to defrost, and went into the backyard to run a garden hose in the tomato plants.
    Gordo was stretched out under the picnic bench, as if he was at the taxidermist waiting to be stuffed. Gabe had to laugh at the image inside his head: poor Gordo stuffed and, like a trophy, propped on top of their television.
    â€œYou still alive, Gordo?” he asked with a smirk.
    The cat raised his head, blinked. He was languishing in the heat—poor cat, sporting fur on a day like this. Gabe returned inside for a handful of ice cubes, which he set floating like glaciers in the cat bowl. He picked up Gordo and was bringing him to his bowl when he heard, “Hi, Gabe. These are really tasty.”
    Through the haze of heat, he saw his dad looming over the tomato plants, gripping a tomato the size of a cue ball. He brought it to his mouth and bit it. Juice squirted on the front of his shirt, the tomato was so ripe.
    Gabe poured Gordo gently from his arms. “Oh, hi,” he muttered. He stepped out from under the patio awning and immediately felt the heat beating down on him.
    â€œI just a need a place to be,” his dad said.
    Gabe was silent.
    His dad stepped out from the tomato patch and moved toward Gabe. The tomato in his hand dripped juice and tiny seeds.
    â€œI looked for you,” Gabe said. He lifted an arm and pointed south, in the direction of the Rescue Mission.
    His dad swallowed the last bits of tomato while he thought about what Gabe had said— I looked for you.
    And he had. In the four years since his father had left home, Gabe had sometimes yearned for his dad and would see men who resembled him everywhere. His dad, a Raiders fan, wore black and white, in homage to a team that seldom won. Gabe would see men in such colors, and think, with something like pride, that could be my dad! Most times, he would then hurry away. Other times, he approached these men in silver and black. But none of them was his dad.
    â€œIs that right,” his dad remarked. “And where was that?”
    â€œDowntown,” Gabe answered. The image of the Rescue Mission, refuge for the down-and-out, played on the screen of his mind. He noticed the plastic medical band dangling on his dad's wrist. “You're sick, huh?”
    â€œI wish I could lie,” his dad answered. “I wish I could do a lot of things.” He stepped slowly into the shade and lowered his gaze on Gordo, who was drinking from his water bowl. “Is that Sammy?”
    â€œNah, Dad, Sammy's in cat heaven.” Sammy had been their trickster cat, who lived not nine but thirteen adventurous lives. The last was used up when he tried to cross the street one time too many. “This is Gordo. He's a pound cat.”
    His dad smiled and whispered, “Gordo.” He snapped his fingers and Gordo, whiskers dripping water, yawned.
    â€œDad, you need to eat something,” Gabe said. “Wanna come inside?”
    â€œNah, Gabe,” he answered. “This is fine.” He plopped himself down on the