Authors: Ellen Hopkins
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.
My Head Is in the Fridge
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.
The Impossible News
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.
Rich!
Both the Häagen-Dazs bar
dripping into my mouth
and Grandpa Gardella’s
phone message.
A ghost
from Daddy’s past, one
who has remained invisible
(almost so, anyway) for a very
long time,
materializes
from some sordid history
we probably don’t want
to know about. Kaeleigh,
the dimwit, is thrilled. She
harbors
some idiotic curiosity
about our genealogy,
as if dissecting the beast
could help us escape its
malevolence.
But I know that this poorly
timed turn of events can only
lead to more pain. Sorry, Kaeleigh,
but Daddy’s mommy can only
want
one thing: more than a few bucks.
What a Great Thing
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.
What Could the Gossip Be?
She can’t have a clue about Daddy
and Kaeleigh. Unless she’s been
spying, completely covertly, for a
very long time. Grandpa Gardella
didn’t even know
about us until
just a few years
ago. And our
grandmother was
still, to everyone’s
knowledge, totally out of the
picture then—gone or dead.
So what can she possibly
hold over Daddy’s head now?
Could it have
something to
do with why
Grandpa and
Daddy don’t
speak to each
other? Did my
father shoot up
heroin? Sacrifice neighborhood
pets? Hit-and-run, DUI, or shoot
someone, by accident or on purpose?
My curiosity is killing me because
nquiring
minds want to know.
Mom Will Want to Know
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?
Wonder If I Should Be Scared
Or at the very least,
a little nervous.
Wonder what it would
take to make
Mom decide to
put her people on me.
I know a secret or two
myself. What if
I threatened to
go public unless she bought
me a car, paid for my
insurance, took
two hours of her
precious time to help me
get my license? Hey! Great
idea. Or not.
Really, how far
would I go if she said no?
How Far Will I Go
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.
In the Dark
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.
Mom Was Gone Again
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.