Identity Issues (7 page)

"He’s compassionate," I commented. "He understands more about life than most adults, and he’s learned the value of inner strength. He doesn’t count on it coming from others. When kids go through tough times, their life experience makes them more self–reliant."

"I totally agree. It happened to me," Diane said.

We both got quiet. A long moment later, I asked, "Wanna drive past the Stitsill’s house and check it out?"

"Yeah, we can be super spies," Diane answered.

I snickered. "The next Thelma and Louise."

After I Googled their information into my cell phone, we made short work of locating the address. We laughed like giddy teenagers as we strolled back to the car, two simple school teachers solving some big mystery in the middle of the night. We decided to drive through a fast–food joint and grab a couple of coffees.

It didn’t take long to find the Stitsill’s neighborhood. Tract houses were the norm here and the addresses followed a predictable pattern. In no time, we spotted the house. We drove around the block and parked a few doors down so we could case the joint. The Stitsill’s small ranch style house sat on a cookie cutter lot similar to its neighbors. The stars and glowing street lamp gave us a great view.

"The house isn’t anything special." I paused and looked at her. "What did we expect to find?"

Diane laughed. "Maybe if we just sit here, we’ll get a feeling for what’s going on in this family. Something’s not right. When Mrs. Stitsill talks to me, I feel like she’s trying to con me, but I don’t know what about. I just don’t trust her."

I nodded. "I get the same feeling around her, and she did lie to me. She could have fessed up straight off that she thought I’d married her husband. Instead, she sicks the cops on me," I whispered as I kept one eye on the house. "You know what else? I talked to Joey. He said his mom teaches Spanish, but she doesn’t always work during the day."

"Totally weird," Di agreed. "She told me she’s a teacher, too, but she must not be in the traditional sense. I think she wanted me to think of her as a colleague. When we get to work tomorrow, we should check out Joey’s emergency card. See where she works and what we can put together."

My eye caught a shadow in the darkness. "Hey, did you see that? Look." I pointed. "Someone’s there."

Di began to giggle. "Who do you think it is? A murderer?"

Between the wine and the Stitsill story, I couldn’t help myself. I clutched Di’s arm. "Shit. It’s a man. I’m freaked out." I heard the tremor in my voice.

"We’re just jumpy."

"You’re right. I’m overreacting." Still, I couldn’t shake the shivers.

We watched him. He was tall and thin, long legs and arms to match. He wore a jacket and trousers, the dark colors molding with the night.

He walked like a man on a mission, like a guy used to moving in the shadows.

"Where’s he going?" Di asked.

"I don’t know. Where’d he come from?"

Di gripped my hand. "When you pointed him out, I looked up, and he stopped in the darkness."

I sucked in a sharp breath. "I think he’s headed to the Stitsill house."

We glanced at each other and looked right back at him, watching him stride along the side of the house, open the side door of the garage, and disappear inside.

"This is too weird."

Di dug her fingernails into my arm. "Let’s get out of here."

"Relax," I said. "He doesn’t know we’re here or that we’re watching him. Let’s wait a few minutes and see what happens. Worse comes to worse, we can take off. Who knows, maybe he’s the boyfriend who shows up after the kids are asleep." I hoped my calming tone would soothe her.

"Yeah, but wouldn’t she have left a light on for him?" Di asked.

"Good point," I murmured.

We shut up, stared at the side entry door, and waited. About fifteen minutes later, I looked over at Di. We both started to titter, courtesy of the alcohol, the late hour, and our current predicament.

"Promise me something," I said, struggling for control.

"What?" Di gasped, still laughing.

"Don’t
ever
tell anyone what we did tonight. They wouldn’t understand. Hell, I don’t understand." I knew I’d feel even more embarrassed about this tomorrow.

I’m not sure who saw him first, Di or me, but we both froze as he retraced his steps to the sidewalk. We watched intently.

"What the hell? Do you recognize him?" I asked as he moved under the street lamp.

"Yes, I do," she whispered.

When I looked at her, I read the panic on her face.

"It’s Joey’s father." I stared in disbelief.

"He’s not dead."

"Doesn’t look dead."

"Shit, now what?" Di asked.

"Let’s get the hell out of here." I felt numb as I drove to her place.

We entered Di’s house silently, got ready for bed, and crossed paths in the living room.

"Di?" I said after climbing onto the pull–out couch.

"Yeah?"

"We’ll talk tomorrow, alright?"

She nodded and disappeared into her bedroom.

In the morning, after showering and dressing, we met in the kitchen for coffee. As I served myself and avoided conversation, I worried that we’d gone too far. Finally, I spoke up. "Well, what do you think?"

"The question is, what are we going to do?" Diane asked, clearly upset and confused.

I stared into my coffee mug, searching for answers. "Nothing for right now."

"Really?" She sounded appalled.

"Let’s sit on this for awhile. Mull it over," I suggested.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

Under normal circumstances, Diane trusted my judgment. At this moment, I could tell she didn’t. I didn’t either.

"No, but it’s the best idea for now. He didn’t see us, so we keep our own counsel. Eventually, we’ll know what to do." I paused, watching the panic ease from her eyes. "You okay?" I felt guilty for dragging her into this mess.

"No, but I will be."

"Let’s look at the Emergency Card today. We’ll find out where Rosita works and the contact names for the kids."

"Sounds like a plan," Diane agreed.

Emergency cards don’t contain a ton of information, but they often include the child’s name, parents’ names, address, place of employment, work hours, important phone numbers, and persons to notify if the authorities can’t reach the parent. It wasn’t a big deal for a teacher to pull an emergency card. Teachers did it all the time for any variety of reasons. I wandered into the office and took a few minutes to peruse Joey’s card. It listed his mom, but nothing for his dad. Not even a notation that he was deceased. Just a blank space, which struck me as a little odd considering how concerned Joey’s mom seemed to be about him.

His address and mom’s name checked out. It confirmed her employment by a neighboring school district, listing her work hours as out of the ordinary. Not the typical teacher schedule at all. She’d listed her occupation as an ESL teacher, which meant she taught English as a second language. The district she worked in consisted of a large population of Spanish speaking families. She wouldn’t need a college degree, especially if she taught Community Education classes which met in the evenings.

It made sense to leave the poor woman alone. I had no business getting involved in her life. I felt sorry for her, but also curious that so many things about her didn’t quite add up. Things were still off. Very off. Especially considering what Diane and I had witnessed the night before.

Uneasy thanks to our snooping, my anxiety spiked. I drove straight home after work. I needed to see my kids and my husband and feel some normalcy. Maybe I’d even try a new recipe and open a bottle of wine. Not like I needed any more wine. I still had a dull headache from the night before, then again, a little brain numbing never hurt. Yep, that would do it. I’d get the kids a snack, start dinner, and have a glass of wine. Maybe two.

The phone rang a little after five.

"Hi, Honey, it’s me," Jon said, the hesitation in his voice one I had long ago become accustomed to.

"What’s up?" I tried not to sound too peeved.

"I’m going to be late. I’ve got a conference call at 6:00 p.m., but I shouldn’t be any longer than an hour or two."

Amazing how quick my mood could change from longing to miffed. Thank God, I knew how to manage everyone’s life.

"Okay, sweetie," I said in an attempt to mask my frustration.

"Thanks for holding down the fort," Jon said.

"Umm, hmm."

"Hey, I love you."

"I love you, too," I answered, mustering my loving nature.

I changed into sweats and headed to the kitchen. I pulled out pots and pans, thinking about pasta even though I’d had it the night before.

I interrupted cooking dinner long enough to give the kids a snack. Then, I sautéed garlic and onions, along with some fresh mushrooms, even though the kids would eat around them.

I let the sauce simmer for a while, cut up a fresh baguette, slathered it with my famous garlic butter, and poured myself a glass of Cabernet. The flavors of oak, cherry, and blackberry reminded me why I loved wine so much. I wrapped the garlic bread in foil, then assembled the fixings for salad. The mundane chopping soothed me. Smells of Italian spices filled the kitchen, the TV droned in the background, the kids got along, and life was good. The ordinary night helped to erase the visions of the long armed man and quiet my fears.

Jon arrived home close to 9:00 p.m. The dishes were done, homework and baths out of the way, and the kids tucked into bed. I had nearly finished the bottle of wine. Lucky for Jon, I’d saved a small glass for him, and he happily sucked it down with a plate of food. We sat at the kitchen table together while he ate.

"Did you and Di have a good time last night?"

On the inside, I coughed and choked. On the outside, I took a steadying breath. "We really did. Thanks for covering here for me."

"Heck, you do it all the time for me. Happy to do it."

"Did everything go alright?" I asked.

"Pretty much. Nick got into trouble at school yesterday, but what else is new? I signed his discipline slip. Of course, he said the incident wasn’t his fault. Some kid brought a Playboy magazine to school and asked him to keep it for him. Word got out that he’d hid it in his locker and the principal, that Schneider guy, came down and asked him to hand it over. Nick did and explained the sequence of events to him, but Schneider didn’t believe him," Jon added.

"Playboy, huh? Funny, he didn’t mention anything about it this evening." I took a deep breath, exhaustion suddenly worming its way over me. "I’ll deal with him tomorrow. Kids. They’ll be the death of us someday. Do you think we’ll survive? Will they ever grow up?"

"I hope so," Jon said, gulping down the last of his wine. "So, what did you and Diane do last night?"

I double–clutched.

"We just hung out. Dinner, plenty of wine, lots of gossip." Jon wouldn’t approve of what we’d done.

"By the way, do you still have the photos of the Stitsill’s I showed you?" I asked as casually as possible.

"Somewhere. Why?"

"Just curious. I want to check them out again. When you have a chance, could you look for them?"

"Sure, honey." Jon kissed me on the forehead before he headed to the sink with his plate.

We finished up the dishes, tidied the family room, and climbed the stairs to the bedroom. The wine had relaxed us. Despite how early the alarm would blare the next morning, we indulged in some heavy–duty lovemaking.

I
WAKENED NICK with little patience, waiting until he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom before I went down to the kitchen.

After letting Rex out, I loaded cereal boxes onto the table, added a half–full carton of milk, and then distributed bowls, spoons, and paper napkins. My swimming backpack sat in the back hall, a remnant of my broken plans. No way could I leave for work in the pre–dawn hours. I had to deal with my errant son. I gave it a passionate kick as I passed it. Jon joined me in the kitchen, poured two fingers of cream into his mug, and flipped on the coffee maker.

"Hey, Babe, how’s it going?" He gave my rear a pat as we juggled around each other.

"Fine," I said, talking myself into it. "Nick’s headed down in a minute. We’re going to chat about the appropriateness of Playboy in the school setting."

Jon chuckled. "Glad I’m headed outta here."

"Chicken," I said. "What time does your plane leave?"

"I need to be at the airport by seven. My flight leaves a little before nine. Los Angeles first, then Asia." Jon poured himself a cup of coffee before he headed upstairs to fetch his bag.

I let Rex back into the house as Nick appeared in the kitchen.

"Why’d you get me up so early?" he questioned.

"You brought home a behavior slip from the Principal’s office. What’s up with that?" I asked.

Nick grinned sheepishly. "Mom, it wasn’t my fault, honest."

"Start over. I want the whole story. Then tell me how you plan to repair the situation."

I poured myself a cup of coffee, carried it over to the table, and sat down beside Nick. He busily poured a mound of whole grain o’s into his bowl and added just a touch of milk. Nick hated soggy cereal.

"Give me the straight story."

"Rob gave me the magazine. He found it under his dad’s mattress, brought it to school, and we looked at it in the locker room after gym. What’s the big deal? A whole bunch of us looked, Mom, honest."

"I’m sure you did. How’d it wind up in your locker?"

"Rob didn’t wanna get caught with it, so he asked me to stick it in my locker," he said, adding a simple shrug.

Not too bright, I thought. "And you decided this was a good idea because…"

"Mom, Rob’s my best friend, ya’ know?" Nick looked at me like I was the crazy one for not understanding his logic. His sky blue eyes, thick yellow hair, and the sprinkle of freckles across his nose made me want to smile. The swipe he gave his chin with his sleeve, the one catching the dribble of milk made me smile, too. On the inside.

"Nick, you can’t make stupid decisions just because someone is your friend. You need to think things through, not act on impulse." My teacher voice came in handy.