White Space Season 2

tried not to feel like an asshole, and said, “They all deliver, if you pay enough.” He handed Houser a plate, filled with everything but shrimp, then went back to grab his own, which he had served alongside Houser’s. “I don’t hear you complaining when Emma’s not around.”
    “I’m not complaining now, just asking.”
    He sat across from Houser and Emma. “I get the arguments about not eating out,” Jon said. “I just don’t buy them. It’s expensive, you don’t know what’s in your food, it’s easy to overeat, bad for the environment, blah, blah, blah. Well, expensive doesn’t matter — not to sound like a jerk, but it’s true. I’m very clear about what I ask for in my food, and I’m content that my family gives hundreds of millions of dollars to the environment. That gives me license to toss a few containers. Besides, I don’t want to start cooking.”
    “Why not?” Houser and Emma said together.
    “Because I know I’ll love it, and am sure I’ll get obsessive. When I really like something, it’s all I want to do. I’ll want to take lessons and do nothing but cook. Right now, I’d rather be obsessive about spending time with you.” He winked at Emma.
    She blushed, then changed the subject. “ I’m a really good cook.”
    “Oh?” Jon raised his eyebrows. “What’s your best dish?”
    “Tortilla Pizza,” she said without wasting a second. “Definitely.”
    Jon and Houser both laughed. Jon said, “How do you make that?”
    “It’s easy! All you do is get a pack of tortillas and make a pizza on top of it. I’ve made them with sausage and pepperoni, and all of the stuff you normally put on a pizza. Mom used to like weird stuff on hers.”
    Jon felt a sharp pang, though Emma seemed unaffected. “Like what?” he asked.
    “Like corn,” she wrinkled her nose.
    “Gross,” Jon said, though he didn’t really think that seemed to gross at all, especially considering the pizza was made with tortilla.
    Emma recited recipes for another four dishes and told a few stories about Sarah that hurt Jon more than he wanted, then they finished the meal and Jon announced the other best thing about ordering out.
    “No dishes!” he laughed, scooping the remains of their meal into a garbage bag, including the paper plates. With their trash in a bag, Jon asked Emma if she wanted to watch TV, whatever she wanted.
    “In my room?” she squealed.
    He shook his head. “Nope, sorry. The optic’s not working yet. But you can watch whatever you want in the living room. The TV’s name is Angelica. Just say, ‘Hi, Angelica,’ then let her know what you want to watch. She’ll find it for you.”
    “Thanks, Jon!” Emma said, then hugged him hard and ran into the living room. He felt another pang, this one from wondering when — if ever — she would start calling him Dad. He would never make her call him Father like his dad had made him, until he was old enough to decide he didn’t want to.
    “Want a drink?” Jon asked Houser.
    Houser said of course, then they headed to the bar.
    Jon and Houser sat at the bar in his kitchen, Houser kicking back a Heineken while Jon poured himself a glass of merlot.
    “You remember anything else about the accident?”
    “No, shit’s still blank,” Houser said. “Why?”
    “I was talking with Liz Heller, and she said she gave you a flash drive. She wouldn’t tell me what was on it, but it seemed like something that really bothered her.” Jon paused for a second, choosing his words to not seem too melodramatic, then added, “She seemed scared.”
    “I vaguely remember something, but only vaguely, like I know it was something important, but beyond that, I’ve got nothing. I’ve tried digging in my mind, but all I can say is it’s a missing memory.”
    “Well, I gave her some cash to help her get out of town. She’s going to California, a small place in Balboa. Great schools. Near your neck of the woods. Would you mind looking into the matter more, if she asks? I’d like to give her the offer, you know, so she has peace of mind. I’ll pay you, of course.”
    “No problem,” Houser said.
    Emma ran into the room before Jon could say thanks, spinning around and speaking in a sickly sweet English accent: “I am Angelica, what would you like to watch?” over and over.
    Houser laughed. Jon couldn’t stop smiling.
    “Did you know I can watch anything I want?” Emma asked, as if the TV wasn’t Jon’s. “Angelica will find it in seconds.