But six women wouldn’t all disappear the morning after promising another date.
I asked my father whether anything unusual had happened during those evenings.
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He looked genuinely confused.
“No. Why?”
“Did you argue with them?”
“Of course not.”
“Did you say anything that could have frightened them?”
His expression tightened.
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“What kind of man do you think I am?”
“That is not what I meant.”
He turned toward the sink and began rinsing a mug that was already clean.
I knew I had hurt him.
“I just want to understand,” I said.
“So do I.”
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That evening, I called my best friend Rachel and asked her for a favor.
We had known each other since college.
Rachel was painfully honest.
She could charm an entire room, yet she could also spot a lie before most people finished telling it.
If my father was doing something wrong, she would notice.
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“Go on one date with him.”
She laughed.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m serious.”
Her laughter faded.
“Lola, that is your father.”
“I know.”
“And he knows me.”
“He has only met you a few times.”
“That does not make this less strange.”
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I explained everything.
I told her about the six women, the successful dates, and how each one disappeared overnight.
Rachel stayed silent for several moments.
“So you want me to investigate him?”
“I want you to tell me what happens.”
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“And what exactly am I supposed to say when he recognizes me?”
“Tell him we met through the app. He might remember your face, but he will not remember your name.”
Rachel groaned.
“This is a terrible idea.”
“Probably.”
“It could ruin my friendship with you.”
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“It will not.”
“It could ruin your relationship with your father.”
The thought terrified me, but I kept my voice steady.
“I need to know.”
Reluctantly, she agreed.
The date went even better than I had expected.
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Rachel called afterward.
