to have proof positive that my father had been murdered, that he’d been run off the road and left there to die, to drown in the river. I was practically vibrating as I opened the door, ignoring a strange sensation that felt like a hand on my shoulder, a breath on my neck. It was nothing. Just my imagination.
Voices, in the kitchen. Mary and my mother. They had not heard me enter. I heard my name. I thought about ignoring it. I needed to get upstairs, to finally discover the truth.
But I crept toward the kitchen instead. I heard Mary: You lost your husband, but he lost his father, the only one he will ever have.
My mother murmured something in return, her voice a whisper.
Mary: I know you can see it, hon. Big Eddie tied all of you together, but he’s gone. He’s not coming back. You can’t allow your son to follow him, because that’s what’s happening. He’s lost weight; he barely says a single word to anyone. The school called again and left a message. He cut class. They’re talking about expulsion, Lola. Expelling him. Not graduating. He’s got to get his grades up and he’s got to start going back to class, otherwise he’ll be held back. And then what about college?
A sigh.
I left quietly.
The next day, I went to class.
I came home and did homework.
I offered fake smiles. False laughter.
I came downstairs for dinner, ignoring the looks of surprise.
Smells good, I said. Brightly.
After a time: Benji, can I talk to you a moment?
Can it wait, Mom? I’m kind of behind on homework and need to get caught up. I flash her a smile, quiet and earnest.
Oh? Homework? Sure, Benji. It can wait.
Thanks.
Benji?
Yeah?
I think… I think everything is going to be all right.
Of course you do, I thought. Of course you do, you bitch. How dare you forget him like he’s nothing. How dare you. Sure, Mom. Whatever you say. I gave her another smile as she left the room.
And for the next few months, I focused on what needed to be done not to draw attention to myself. I buckled down. I worked hard. The police reports, the coroner’s reports, the photos, the little chunk of metal that supposedly came from his truck, twisted and black—all stayed locked up, secreted away. They would have my undivided attention later. I would give them all the time they needed once the focus was no longer on me.
But the longer they stayed hidden, the harder it was to find the courage to look at them again. Maybe I was seeing things that weren’t there. Maybe there was no evidence to suggest anything happened other than what the investigators said. Maybe my father was going to Eugene to meet with friends. Maybe he lost control of the truck (a deer? slick roads? distracted?). Maybe he crashed down the embankment, flipped his truck, and drowned just like they said. Maybe that’s all it was.
Adrift. My mother and I were adrift, occasionally colliding and bouncing away. The wounds scabbed over but never healed, just waiting to be torn open again. That’s the thing about grief: the longer it festers, the harder it is to cleanse.
So I’m not surprised that my mother isn’t there the morning after Cal returns.
She’s seen something that has altered her perception of the way the world works and needs time to work it out on her own. It helps me that she had the exact same reaction I did when Cal first revealed himself: shock, denial, then anger. She and I are more alike than I like to admit, and I would do well to remember that.
Mary rejoices at seeing Cal again, much like her twin. Christie seems more subdued and gives a less warm reception, but Cal still has her smiling by the end of breakfast, charming her completely. If my mother has said anything to either of them, they don’t show it on their faces. I like to think that they wouldn’t be able to hide the shock of something so life-altering from me, especially given they are blood relations. I watch closely for any telltale sign, any flicker of fear or amazement based on anything other than the conversation at hand.
There’s nothing.
Cal and I spend the rest of the day in bed. I don’t hear my phone ring later that night, my mother leaving a message in a flat voice that she wants me to open the store tomorrow, but that Cal should stay at