Do You Know the Monkey Man? (14 page)

H
urry up, Sam!” Mom called from our front door. “We don’t want to be late!”

“I’m coming!” I called back. I fluffed my hair a couple more times, then peered at myself in my mirror. My hair wasn’t perfect, but it was going to have to do.

I grabbed my purse, then hurried down the hall, weaving through all the boxes. My mom and Bob were getting married in three days. The movers were coming in four days. Grandma and Grandpa Sperling were coming tomorrow. And my sister, T. J., was coming today! I checked my watch. My mom and I had exactly one hour to drive to the Cedar Rapids bus station to meet her bus.

“Do I look okay?” I asked my mom, spinning around for her inspection. I had on a brand-new white seventies-style blouse, my favorite jeans, and a gold monkey necklace.

“You look fine,” Mom said. “How do I look?” She was wearing a blue skirt and a button-down white shirt.

“Fine,” I said.

Then we went out to the car. We figured that since this was T. J.’s first visit, Mom and I should go to the bus station to get her alone. T. J. could see Bob later. And she could meet the rest of Bob’s family
much
later. Like at the rehearsal dinner. Even Mom realized that all those people might be a little much for T. J.’s first couple of nights here.

My mom had made up the couch in the den for T. J. We decided we’d ask her if she wanted a room at our new house. It would be totally up to her. We all knew she wasn’t going to live with us, but she was welcome to visit anytime. For as long as she wanted.

“Are you nervous?” Mom asked as we drove into Cedar Rapids.

“Yes,” I said. “Are you?”

“Yes.” Mom smiled.

We parked a couple of blocks away from the bus station, then walked back. It was a nice day, so we decided to wait outside.

I checked my watch. Ten minutes. T. J. would be here in ten minutes.

“Do you think she’s nervous?” I asked.

“I’m sure she’s terrified,” Mom answered. “This is a big step for her, coming for the wedding.”

T. J. wasn’t going to be
in
the wedding like me, she was just coming
for
the wedding. She would be here for one week. And maybe, just maybe, I would go there, to Joe and T. J.’s house for a long weekend in October when we were off from school. Mom was still thinking about that.

“Look! I think this is her bus!” I said as a big bus came around the corner and slowly pulled into the parking lot.

As the door to the bus wheezed open, Mom and I grabbed hands. Her hand was just as sweaty as mine.

We watched anxiously as all the people filed off the bus. A woman my mom’s age with a little kid, two guys in jeans and T-shirts, an older lady with a flowery dress, and finally…T. J.

She smiled a little when she saw us. She hoisted a medium-sized duffel bag onto her shoulder and walked over to us.

“Hey,” she said, stopping in front of me.

“Hey,” I said back.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

While the act of writing is a solitary activity, no book is ever truly written alone. I’d like to thank Doug Vance of the Coralville Police Department for talking with me about the situation described in this book and for allowing me to interrupt his day on several occasions to ask “just one more question”; Judge E. W. Hertz for patiently and thoroughly answering all my questions on family law; Mary Scarborough for putting me in touch with Mr. Hertz in the first place; my Sisters in Ink friends for letting me ramble on about this project two years in a row; my editor, Lisa Banim, for guiding me in the right direction; and all the people at Peachtree who helped make this book a reality. I’d also like to thank my wonderful husband and children, who give me time and space to write every day…and without whom I wouldn’t be who I am today.

—DHB

T
he little red light on our answering machine was blinking on and off when I wandered into the kitchen. I groaned. I could guess who that was.

“Hey, Sherlock!” I whistled for my dog. “Do you need to go outside?” It was eight o’clock in the morning, so of course he needed to go outside. He came running, tail wagging and nails clicking against our cracked kitchen floor.

“Here you go,” I said, holding the back door open for him.

I wondered if we had anything for breakfast. I pressed PLAY on the answering machine and wandered over to the fridge to see what was inside. Not much. A little bit of milk. Bologna. Leftover pizza.

The machine beeped and I heard, “Hello? T.J.?” My fingers tightened around the fridge handle. “This is Sam. Again.” I could tell she was trying to sound friendly and unconcerned, but she also sounded nervous. What did
she
have to be nervous about? She wasn’t the one who’d had her whole life turned upside down.

“My mom and I just wanted to make sure you’re still coming on Wednesday,” Sam went on. “Are you? Did you get the money for the bus ticket? We need to know what bus you’re coming on and what time it gets in so we can come pick you up. Could you maybe call us back and let us know?”

I grabbed the pizza box, then slammed the fridge closed.

“Oh!” I jumped when I saw Joe standing on the other side of the fridge door. He had on an old T-shirt and ratty jeans. Work clothes.

“Hey,” he said as though it was just another normal day, and we were just another normal father and daughter about to sit down to a nice, delicious breakfast together. Right. I’d have gone back to my room if Sherlock hadn’t still been outside. Believe it or not, Joe was the one who’d gotten me the dog. He chose a Westie because that’s what he had when he was a kid. He told me Westies were smart, loyal, and independent. Which was true. Too bad everything else he’d ever told me was a lie.

“Are you planning to eat that pizza or are you just going to carry it around for a while?” Joe asked.

Very funny.

“Is there enough pizza left for both of us?” Joe tried again.

I shoved a bunch of dirty dishes aside so I could set the box on the counter. “Open it and see,” I told Joe. It was the most I’d said to him in about three days.

He pulled up the lid and grabbed a slice from the pepperoni side of the pizza. Once he moved out of the way, I
helped myself to a slice of the bacon and pineapple and stuffed the pointy end into my mouth. It was like biting into cold cardboard. Fortunately, I happened to like cold, card-boardy pizza.

“I take it you still haven’t called Sam back,” Joe said as he leaned against the stove.

“Obviously not,” I said, wishing my dog would hurry up. I went over to the door to wait for him.

“How many times has she called in the last couple of weeks? Three? Four?”

“More like five or six.”

Joe sighed. “T.J., you have to call her back.”

“Why?” Even more important, why did he care whether I called her back?

“Because when someone calls and leaves a message, you call them back. That’s the way it works.”

Maybe in normal families
.

“I don’t have enough money for the bus ticket anymore, remember?” I said. I’d given him some of the money Suzanne sent me so he could pay our electric bill. Not that I minded. If I didn’t have money for the bus ticket, I wouldn’t be able to go to Iowa. Oh, well.

“I’ve got your money right here,” Joe said, reaching into his front pocket. He pulled out a wad of bills and brought them over to me.

I eyed the cash, but didn’t take any. “Where’d you get all that?” I asked.

“Hey, I’ve got a job now, remember?” Joe said, a little too cheerfully. He grabbed my free hand, the one that didn’t
have the half-eaten slice of pizza in it, pressed the bills against my palm, then closed my fingers around them.

I popped the last of my pizza into my mouth and counted the money while I chewed. Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, one hundred dollars. I’d actually given him a hundred and twenty dollars, but whatever. It wasn’t my money. It was Suzanne’s.

“What’s the matter, T.J.?” Joe asked. “Don’t you want to go to your mom’s?”

Of course I didn’t want to go. I didn’t know these people. I didn’t even know Sam and Suzanne existed until Sam showed up on our doorstep three weeks ago and said she was my sister. My twin sister. I might have been able to get excited about that under other circumstances. Like, if her existence didn’t prove that my entire life had been a lie. Now I was supposed to forget everything I’d ever been told about who I was and be like any other divorce kid. Go to Iowa. Go to Suzanne’s wedding and act like her daughter. It was too much. Too much, too soon.

“It’ll be okay,” Joe said as he went to the fridge and took out a can of Coke. “It’s only a week. It’ll go fast.”

Was that supposed to make me feel better?

“Maybe I’ll get there and decide I don’t want to come back,” I said, just to see what he’d say. “Did you ever think of that?”

Joe popped the tab on his Coke can. “I
have
thought of that,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “And if that’s what you want …” His voice trailed off.

It wasn’t what I wanted.

Sherlock let out a short bark, so I let him in. He went straight to his food bowl, which was still empty. Holding tight to the hundred bucks, I grabbed the bag of dog food from the shelf next to the back door. Three ants crawled out from behind the bag. Gram would have a fit if she knew there were ants in her house. I smashed them with the bag, then poured some food into Sherlock’s bowl. He nosed his way in before I even finished pouring.

“I called the bus station last night,” Joe said suddenly.

I lifted an eyebrow. “
You
called the bus station?”

“Don’t give me your lip. Of course I called the bus station. I knew you hadn’t done it. And I thought it was about time we made a plan for Wednesday. There’s a bus that leaves here at 7:20 a.m. and gets in to Cedar Rapids around 6:30 p.m. Cedar Rapids is the closest town to Clearwater that has a bus station.” He looked pretty proud of himself for finding out all that information. “Why don’t you call Sam back and tell her you’ll be on that bus?”

“You’re the one who called the bus station,” I said. “Why don’t
you
call her?”

Joe scratched his ear. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. Do you?”

No, probably not. After everything that had happened, Joe and Suzanne had been communicating through Mrs. Morris, my social worker. It was better that way. Safer. Personally, I thought it was safer for me to communicate with Suzanne and Sam through Mrs. Morris, too, but Mrs. Morris wanted me to talk to them directly.

And now even Joe wanted me to talk to them directly.
He grabbed the phone and held it out to me. “Call and tell them you’re coming, Teej,” he said. “Please.”

I stared at the phone for a couple of seconds, then went to put the bag of dog food back on the shelf. “I think we should call and tell them I’ll come in a few weeks,” I said. “After the wedding.”

I’d never actually been to a wedding before, but I’d seen enough of them on TV to know that this was a really stupid time for my first visit. It’s not like Suzanne and I would have any time to “get to know each other.” Not with some big wedding going on. And then the day after the wedding they’re going to be busy moving into their new house. Who invites a total stranger to their wedding and then asks the person to help them move?

“Suzanne told Mrs. Morris that she wanted both her daughters there for her wedding,” Joe said. “I’m not really in a position to tell her no, am I?”

Probably not. Because if he gets on Suzanne’s bad side, he could end up in jail.

Joe held the phone out to me again. “Would you please just tell them you’re coming? You don’t want that social worker to come over here and start nosing around again, do you?”

Of course I didn’t, so I took the phone. I knew Joe would stand there until I made the call, so I went over to the answering machine, rewound the tape, and got Suzanne and Sam’s phone number. My finger shook as I punched in the numbers. If I was lucky, no one would answer.

Two rings … three rings … four rings
… click
. “You have reached the Wright residence.”
Yes! An answering machine
. “We can’t come to the phone right now, but if you’ll leave your name and number, we’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Hi. This is—” I had to stop and think. I was T.J. As far as I was concerned, that was my name.

But
they
—Suzanne and Sam—knew me as Sarah.

Well, tough. “This is T.J.,” I said. “My bus gets in to Cedar Rapids at 6:30 on Wednesday night. See you then.” I hung up and handed the phone back to Joe.

He winced.

“What?” I asked.

“You could’ve been a little friendlier.”

Considering none of this was my idea, or my fault, I could’ve been a lot
un
friendlier.

I
’ll pick you up after softball today,” Joe said as he packed two peanut butter sandwiches, a bag of chips, and a Coke into his lunch box.

I unwrapped a square of grape bubble gum and popped it into my mouth. “I’ll take the bus,” I said between chews.

“Don’t be difficult. You know your coach doesn’t like it when you take the bus.”

“My coach needs to get a life,” I said. What did he think was going to happen to me on the 4:44 bus anyway?

Joe grunted. “I agree. But what if that social worker has been talking to him? Do you really want your mom to find out I let you take the bus by yourself?”

I shrugged. There were worse things she could find out.

“If I pick you up, we can go visit Gram afterwards,” Joe said. “You do want to see Gram before you leave on Wednesday, don’t you?”

I’d been planning to go see her anyway. On the bus. Just like I did every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday since she went into the nursing home.

Joe made me promise I wouldn’t tell Gram about Sam showing up three weeks ago. He didn’t even want me to tell Gram that I was going to visit Sam and Suzanne. He said it would confuse and upset her. I didn’t want to confuse or upset her, so I kept my mouth shut. It was hard, though. My whole life, no matter where Joe and I were living, no matter what was going on, Gram was the one I called when we were in trouble or if I needed something. She told me what to do when I got my period for the first time; she told me what to do when Joe got sick and when he got arrested; she even took us in two years ago when things got really bad. She made Joe go to rehab and she took care of me, even though she was already starting to get a little forgetful. Gram had always been my safety net, but now I had to go it alone.

“We can pick up Chinese on the way home and watch the Twins game while we eat,” Joe went on. “What do you say?”

“I say, what’s the occasion?” Chinese food was expensive. We normally only got it for special occasions.

Joe walked over to me. “The occasion is you’re leaving in two days, and I’m going to miss you,” he said, cupping my chin in his hand. “I want us to do something special before you go.”

Why? In case I didn’t come back? I
was
coming back!

Whatever. If it was that big of a deal to him … “Practice is over at 4:30,” I said. “Don’t be late.”

“I won’t,” Joe said.

Right. Joe was always late. That’s why I started riding the bus.

Big surprise. It was 4:45 and no Joe. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and I gazed up at the greenish purple clouds that drifted slowly across the sky. It was growing darker by the minute.

Great. I’d just missed the 4:44 bus and there wouldn’t be another bus until 5:10. I sure hoped Joe was really coming.

I leaned against the chain-link fence and lazily swung my gym bag back and forth in front of me while Monica and Megan Hayes ran around picking up all the bases, stray balls, and other equipment. Their dad, who was our coach, was jotting last-minute notes on his clipboard. Everyone else had already left.

Monica and Megan were identical twins. Like me and Sam. Funny, I’d never noticed how many twins were out there until I met Sam. The only twins I’d ever paid attention to were the Minnesota Twins, as in the baseball team. Now I saw them all over the place. Monica and Megan were an especially annoying set. Everything about them was, well …
identical
. Not just their looks, but the stuff they did for fun, their friends, everything. Was that what most twins were like?

Would Sam and I be like that if we had grown up together?

I doubted it. The only thing we had in common was our parents.

Coach Hayes shoved his clipboard in one of the duffel bags and zipped it up while his clone daughters zipped the
other. “Is your dad on his way, T.J.?” he asked as the three of them strode toward me. They were such a perfect family. Perfect dad and perfect kids. I’ll bet when Coach Hayes says he’s going to pick Monica and Megan up from the mall at a certain time, he does it.

“Probably,” I said. But who knew?

Thunder rumbled again. Louder this time. Streetlights up and down Washburn Avenue clicked on.

“Have you called him?”

“Uh, I don’t have a cell phone,” I said.

The clones looked at me like,
how could you not have a cell phone?
But hey, cell phones cost money. And unlike the rest of the world, we didn’t have a money tree growing outside our house.

Coach unclipped his phone from his belt and held it out to me. “Use mine,” he said. “If your dad can’t get here in the next couple of minutes, I’ll just take you home.”

Monica and Megan glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes. I could tell they didn’t want to give me a ride. Let’s just say the three of us didn’t hang out with the same people.

“That’s okay,” I said. I didn’t need a ride from them or anyone else. “I’m sure my dad will be here any minute.”
And if he’s not, I’ll run down and catch the 5:10 bus
.

“Well, I can’t leave you here by yourself,” Coach said. “And I can’t wait around much longer. So why don’t you call and see what’s going on?” He handed me the phone.

I had to stop and think what Joe’s phone number was. He only got a phone a couple of months ago when he
started working for Floyd Construction. I punched in a number I thought was Joe’s and put the phone to my ear.

A loud clap of thunder sounded right above us. Large drops of rain plunked against my arms and dotted the sidewalk.

Monica and Megan shrieked in unison, then took off toward a black Toyota that was parked across the street. Coach touched my elbow. “Come on, T.J. Let’s go.” Rain poured down all around us.

Still holding the coach’s cell phone to my ear, I hoisted my gym bag up onto my other shoulder and hurried after him. My feet slapped against the wet pavement and my toes squished inside my sopping wet socks.

“Hello? Joe?” I said once the voice mail kicked in. “Softball got out like twenty minutes ago. Where are you? Coach Hayes won’t let me wait by myself, so he’s going to bring me home. I’ll see you there.”

The clones had left the back door of the Toyota open for me, so I crawled in and the coach slammed the door closed behind me as the rain poured down even harder. It sounded like marbles rolling across the roof of the car.

“Did you get ahold of your dad?” Coach Hayes asked once he was settled in the front seat.

“Yeah,” I lied. “He’s stuck in traffic. The rain, you know.” I handed him his phone. “He said to tell you thanks for bringing me home.”

I shook the water out of my hair. The clone who was maybe Megan leaned way away from me like I was spraying germs all over her.

“So, where do you live, T.J.?” Coach asked as he stuck his key in the ignition. The air conditioning came on full blast.

Goose bumps popped out on my arms and I shivered. “Over on Sheridan,” I said, rubbing my arms. “Sheridan and 74
^th
.”

“That’s not too far,” Coach said.

Hugging my gym bag to my chest, I leaned back against my seat and watched the little rivers of rain run along my window. The clones carried on some dumb conversation about who’d said what to whom the whole way to my house. Fine with me. That way I didn’t have to talk to them. Gram was always trying to get me to make friends with the girls at school. That’s why she made me join band and softball and anything else I could stand to be in for ten seconds. She didn’t get that I just didn’t fit in. But so what? I had Joe and Gram, and Nick and Dave next door, and my dog. That was enough.

“Which house is it?” Coach asked as he turned onto my street.

“That brown one on the left up there,” I said. “The one with the broken garage window.” Joe had promised Gram he’d fix that when he got out of rehab and he still hasn’t done it. But then again, Gram’s not here to know that he hasn’t done it.

By the time we pulled into the driveway, the worst of the storm had passed. Just a light rain was falling now. “Thanks for the ride,” I said, reaching for the door handle.

“No problem.”

Coach waited while I walked up to my house and unlocked the front door. As soon as I did, Sherlock lunged at my knees and wagged his tail in greeting.

I smiled. “Hey, boy,” I said, bending to pick him up. I held my dog in one arm, waved to Coach with the other hand, then nudged the door closed with my foot. At least he didn’t come in and make sure I wasn’t alone in my house. I guess he wasn’t worried that someone might break into my house and kidnap me. He only worried about something happening to me on the 4:44 bus.

Sherlock wiggled around in my arms and licked my face. I kissed him on his nose and he licked me even more.

“Is Joe here?” I asked my dog as I carried him past two overflowing baskets full of laundry into the kitchen. I doubted it. The house felt empty. And I didn’t see Joe’s wallet or keys on the counter.

I checked the answering machine. No blinking red light.

Well, if he couldn’t even leave me a message telling me where he was, why should I wait around for him? I put my dog down and grabbed the leash from the hook by the back door. Sherlock went totally nuts, leaping against my legs and running all around me.

“Yeah, you need a walk, don’t you, boy?” I said as I snapped the leash to his collar and gave his head a quick rub.

I checked the clock on the microwave on our way out: 5:15.

We took a quick jog around the block, splashing through every puddle along the way. Then we loped over to the
park across the street. Usually when Sherlock and I run around in the park, Nick or Dave comes over with one of their dogs. But their house looked pretty dark. They probably weren’t home.

I wished we had a real dog park around here. Sherlock likes to run free, but I didn’t dare let him off his leash completely. He might take off for Penn Avenue and get hit by a car. So I just let his leash go and ran with him a little bit. That way if he got away and didn’t come when I called, I could catch him by jumping on his leash. But he stayed right with me today. He was getting better about that.

The storm had cooled things down. It actually felt kind of nice outside now. The trees dripped water, but the sun was trying to poke through the clouds again. After half an hour of chasing sticks and squirrels, Sherlock was ready to go home. So we walked back across the street and went in the house.

Joe still wasn’t home.

I kicked off my shoes, peeled off my wet clothes, and changed into dry ones. It was almost six thirty and I was starving. I had a feeling the Chinese food wasn’t coming, so I stuck a frozen burrito in the microwave. While it spun on the carousel, I poured food into Sherlock’s bowl. The microwave dinged, and I took my dinner into the den and turned on the TV. The game would be starting soon. Where was Joe? I’d really believed him when he said he’d pick me up at softball and we’d do something special tonight.

I peered out the window. I didn’t see or hear our truck rumbling down the street.

Had he gone to see Gram without me? Had he forgotten we were going to go see her together? Or …
had something happened to Gram?
Oh no! Why hadn’t I thought of that before? I picked up the phone and quickly punched in the number for the nursing home.

Someone picked up on the second ring. “Valley View. This is Kari. How can I help you?” Kari was one of the nice nurses.

“Hi,” I said, gripping the phone with both hands. “This is T.J. You know, Eva Wright’s granddaughter?” I waited, but Kari didn’t say anything about Gram being rushed to the hospital or anything. So I said, “I was wondering if my dad was there?”

Kari paused. “No, he’s not, T.J.,” she said. “In fact, he hasn’t been in at all tonight. That’s a little unusual, isn’t it?”

“A little,” I said. Joe wasn’t the most reliable guy in the world, but he was pretty reliable about visiting Gram. He visited her twice a day. Once on his way to work and once on his way home. Half the time Gram doesn’t remember the last time someone visited, even if it was just ten minutes ago. But he still visits her twice a day anyway.

“Can I talk to my grandma?” I asked.

“Sure. Hang on.” It took a while for Kari to take the phone to my grandma.

“Is it Joseph?” I heard Gram ask Kari.

“No, it’s your granddaughter,” Kari told her.

There was a shuffling on the phone, then Gram came on the line. “Hello? T.J.?” she said in a gravely voice.

“Hi, Gram.”

“Where’s your dad? Where’s Joe?” I had to hold the phone away from my ear because she talked so loud.

“I … don’t know. He’s got a big job right now.” She always forgot he had a job. “I think he’s working late. He might not be able to see you tonight, but he’ll be there tomorrow. I promise.”

“Something’s happened,” Gram said suddenly.

“No—”

“Yes,” Gram insisted. “Something’s happened. That’s why he’s not here.” She sounded a little freaked out. She got that way sometimes.

“Listen, Gram.” I scratched the top of my head. “Do you want me to come see you?” I could probably still catch a bus over there if it would make her feel better.

There was a shuffling sound on the phone again. Then a thud.

“Hello? Gram, are you still there?”

Nothing.

“Hello!” I said louder. I pounded my hand against the phone, even though I knew that whatever was wrong wasn’t in the phone. “HELLO? IS ANYONE THERE?”

“I’m sorry, T.J.” It was Kari again. “Your grandma doesn’t want to talk anymore.”

“Is she okay? Should I come down there?”

“No. She wants your dad. She’ll be going to bed soon, though. She’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” I said, hanging up.

I looked out the window again. Still no truck.

I even went outside and jogged down the driveway.
Sherlock didn’t like that I’d left him in the house. I could hear him barking at me.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I told him. Then I walked down to 76
^th
Street to see if I could spot Joe’s truck getting off the freeway. I saw a blue truck turn onto Penn Avenue, but it wasn’t rusty enough to be Joe’s. I stood there watching the cars and trucks and minivans for what felt like half an hour, but in reality it was probably only about ten minutes. Then I slowly dragged myself back home.