"Happy Father's Day!"

"Sharona?"

"Dad, don't call me that . . ."

"Why not? It's your name."

"I hate it."

"Oh, come now. I haven't talked to you for so long. Indulge me."

Rona drew her mouth tight, and decided to change the topic. "How are you?"

"I'm okay. I get this pain in my gut sometimes. But I'm okay."

"Have you seen a doctor?" Rona furrowed her brow in concern.

"It's nothing. I'm fine. Don't worry yourself about it."

Rona paused for a moment. "Um . . . Listen, Dad, can you call me back? It's kind of expensive for me . . ."

"It's just as expensive for me, honey."

"Please?"

"Okay, sure thing." Rona hung up, and waited a few moments, and the 'phone rang. "So why don't you have any money?" her Dad asked.

"I've got some. I'm on the dole."

"You don't have a job?"

"No, Dad."

"What about that magazine you were writing for?"

"It didn't pay anything, Dad. Not really."

"But are you still doing it?"

"No, I quit."

"Why'd you do that?"

"It . . ." Rona drummed her fingers on the casing of the 'phone. "It just wasn't my thing. Didn't work out."

"How long ago did you quit?"

"I dunno, a few months I guess."

"A few months?"

"It's not a big deal, Dad. It was the right thing to do. Anyway, I didn't ring up to talk about me."

"Have you spoken to your mother recently?"

"No, not recently."

"Tell her hi when you do."

"Dad . . .?"

"I've gotta go, honey. I'm sorry. It's a busy day. I'll talk to you later."