Identical (14 page)

Two: Daddy.
Can’t talk

long. But wanted to let

you know I’m going out

to dinner with a colleague.

It could go pretty late,

so don’t worry if you don’t

see me tonight. Any problems,

call my cell phone and I’ll

get back to you ASAP.

“ASAP,” pronounced like a word,

instead of initials. No problem,

Daddy. I’m feeling pretty good now.

When the third message

fires up. The voice is unfamiliar,

but it’s someone I sort of know.

Hello? I’m trying to reach

Raymond Gardella. Ray?

This is your father. I know

it’s been a long time with

no word from me. But

something has come up

that I thought you should

hear about ASAP….

A-S-A-P. Unlike Daddy,

Grandpa Gardella uses

the initials, not the acronym.

I had a visit from your mother,

returned from who-knows-where.

She wanted to know how

to find you. Apparently, she’s

actually paid attention to

the news lately. She knows

your wife is running for Congress.

My guess is she’s out to make

trouble unless you shove

a few dollars in her direction.

If I were you, I’d expect a call.

Steals my breath, chases away

all desire for food. I thought

for sure my grandmother was dead.

And now this not-so-distant

relative crawls from the grave,

a ghost.

I wonder where she’s been,

why it’s taken so many years

for her to reappear. And now,

three weeks until the election, she

materializes

from the ether, robed in evil

intent? What information

can she possibly have? What

dark recess of Daddy’s past

harbors

secrets that could sway voters

away from Mom now? Will

my grandmother really, truly

appear on our doorstep, hugging

malevolence,

money her only motivation?

Has she no desire to reconnect

with her son, meet his family,

become our family too? Do we

want

that, even if she does? One

of those faded filmclips

flickers in distant memory.

To come home to. Something

new. Sure to cause a major stir.

Life is rarely dull around here.

I consider calling Daddy,

more to mess up his dinner out

than anything. But then it strikes

me that I want to see the look on

his face when he hears the news.

Maybe I should call Mom instead.

Someone should break it to her.

Wonder how long she’ll be ahead

in the polls, should the ghost decide

to spread some unimaginable

rumors about dear old Daddy.

Although maybe not from me.

But hey, what’s a daughter for?

Not sure what city she’s touched

down in tonight, but it will

be pretty late. It’s ten here.

Mom’s cell rings five times,

threatens to go to voice mail,

but she picks up before it does.

Yes?
Okay, she’s miffed, but not

as miffed as she’s going to be.

“Uh, Mom? It’s me. We got

a phone message today that I

think you should know

about sooner rather than later.

Let me play it for you.”

I hold the receiver up to

the speaker. When the message

finishes, I wait out the silence.

Finally she says,
Thank you.

I’ll put some people on it.

People? Mom has people?

I mean, I knew she had a staff,

connections even. But “people,”

as in people who handle stuff

like a crazy long-lost relative?

To enjoy this little game?

Daddy will be home soon,

at least I assume he will be.

It might be fun to watch

him pick up the message,

squirm. Freak. Go ballistic.

But just imagine the fun

if I erase the warning, wait

things out. See if my loser

grandmother actually rings

the bell one day. Surprise!

Guess who’s coming to dinner,

Daddy o’ mine. Wow. Decisions.

Decisions. Kaeleigh would want

to tell, but she’s crawled on off

somewhere. To erase or not to

erase, that is the question.

While I think it over, I’ll make

an easier decision. Another

Häagen-Dazs bar? Why not?

Ex-Lax awaits. Chocolate melting

into my mouth, I go over to

the counter, watch the red light

flash three times, extinguish it.

Of my room, I try to sleep,

but thoughts whirl through

my skull, cerebral tornadoes.

Life, I’m fairly sure, is about

to change. But for better or worse?

Any guess is as good as mine.

What would happen if all our dirty

laundry was hung out on a line

where the entire world could see it?

Would Daddy still be a judge?

Would Mom still run away?

Would Kaeleigh and I be taken,

forced into foster care? Would our

lives be less filled with misery?

Or would it just be more of the same?

My eyes grow heavy, less with

weariness than with remembrance.

A certain night blurs into focus.

Can’t exactly remember why,

only that we didn’t expect her

to come home until very late.

It was dark in our room.

Velvety black. Someone had closed

the curtain. Kaeleigh was scared.

I tried to tell her not to worry, but just

then, Daddy burst through the door.

I closed my eyes tight, made myself

no more than a shadow. Something

about him was different. I didn’t

want that something to find me.

I cracked my eyes just a slit as he sat

on Kaeleigh’s bed, pulled her into

his lap. He smelled of Brut and Wild

Turkey. His peculiar potpourri.

I love you so much, my little

flower. Daddy needs something

from my girl, my sweet rose.

Will you give it to me?

I wanted to be his little flower,

would have given my daddy anything.

What did he want from Kaeleigh?

She laid her head on his chest. “What?”

I want you to see something,

something that proves how

much I love you. This is only

for you, Kaeleigh girl.

He lifted her gently, sat her

down on the bed beside him.

Then he opened the snaps on

the fly of his flannel pajamas.

It stood up, stiff as a stalagmite.

See how much Daddy loves you?

Show me you love me, too. Touch

it.
He closed her hand around it.

I know it sounds bad, but I wanted

to touch it too. I didn’t know

what it meant, only that it made Daddy

happy. I wanted to make him happy too.