Everybody's Daughter (3 page)

“Yeah, right. Does she even exist? Or is this one of your fantasies?” She shook her head, twisting her mouth in a mean sneer. “Geez. Even Dad doesn’t make up this kind of junk.”

He held the bottle up. “Why don’t you stick this up…” He caught himself and stopped.
She’s getting to me again.
Michael stood and walked back into the kitchen.

“Why are you running away?” she called out. “I’m just curious about this Leah woman.”

“You’d never understand,” he shot back.

“Come back in here. I promise I’ll listen. I’ll understand. Tell me about Leah.”

Michael placed his glass down on the counter.
She’s like Lucy to my Charlie Brown, always pulling the football away right before I can kick it.

He took a long sip of his wine, hoping it would erase the last ten minutes of their conversation and headed back to the living room. He sat and looked into his glass.

Connie threw back more wine as she settled herself comfortably in the recliner, crossing her legs. “C’mon. I promise I won’t tease you. Who’s Leah?”

Michael hesitated, downed more wine for courage, and chose his words carefully. “You’re not going to be a jerk about it?”

“I swear.” She put her hand over her heart.

He blew out a loud breath. “Leah is someone I met a few months back. Elizabeth and I took a short trip, we got into some trouble and she helped us out.”

“Hold on.” Connie leaned forward. “Trouble? Are you broke again?”

“I’m not broke.” He scowled. “It had nothing to do with money. She kept us safe.”

“Safe from what?” She looked concerned. “And since when did you start traveling?”

Michael sighed. “It’s hard to explain. We were in a different town.”

“Where? Here on Long Island?”

“Not even close,” he replied.

“Were you drinking before I came over? You’re not making any sense. I think the wine’s making you delusional.”

“It has nothing to do with the wine. I’m telling you the truth. We were in a different town and Leah helped us.”

“Well, then, where is she?”

“I don’t know. I can’t get in touch with her even if I wanted to.”

He rubbed his forehead.
And I desperately want to know if she’s okay.

“Didn’t you get her phone number?” she asked and Michael laughed. “What’s so funny?”

He shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Well, where does she live?”

Michael waited for the football to be pulled away. He emptied the remaining wine in his glass. “Jerusalem.”

Connie’s eyebrows shot up. “Get out of here. When did you find the time and money to fly over there?”

“We didn’t fly.” He let out a loud sigh.

“You’re drunk.”

“Maybe I am, but I was there and I know what I saw and who I met.” He dug into his pocket and fingered the coins.
Should I?

She laughed and sipped her wine, choking a few times. Michael stared. Connie continued. “Great fantasy you’ve got going there. This is better than the movies. So, did you take a boat to Jerusalem or did you drive?”

Okay, this is where I stop
. “Actually, we rode our bikes.”

“Now you’re being a jerk.”

“It’s called payback.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. After finishing her wine, Connie asked, “Were you serious about this woman?”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s gone.” He leaned back on the couch, rubbing the space between his brows. “I didn’t expect you to believe me.”

“Then why did you tell me?”

“Probably because I hoped that someday my older sister would be a friend.”

“Ouch.”

“Now you know how I feel when you’re around.”

“Then why did you ask me to come in for a drink? Why do you still talk to me if I’m such a pain?”

He opened a drawer in the side table, dusted off an old Bible and waved it at her. “Because I remember a time when we were partners in crime.”

Nauseous from drinking too much wine, eating Cheerios, and the hot dogs, he retreated to the bathroom, still clutching the Bible. He splashed cold water on his face, sat at the edge of the tub, smoothed the cover and closed his eyes.

He replayed a memory when he and Connie were kids and with vivid recollection remembered one time when they had each other’s back.

The memory was so vibrant, he could still hear his father’s deep voice, booming, “Connie. Michael. Get down here now!”

Connie ran from her room to the hallway, almost colliding with Michael. “We’re in trouble,” she whispered.

He shrugged. She ran down the stairs.

“Hi, Daddy. I’m here,” she said, standing at attention.

Michael took his time entering the room. He stood close to his sister and cowered.

Their father reached up and tugged Michael hard on his arm, his face only a few inches away. Jim’s eyes were bloodshot and his short sideburns were streaked with gray. The air around him was heavy with the smell of whiskey.

“What was the gospel about today?” Jim demanded.

Michael glanced at Connie.

Her expression mirrored his feelings.

Fear.

His father tightened his grip.

“Ouch.” Michael rubbed the sore spot and Jim squeezed harder.

“Go to the basement,” Jim yelled. “And don’t come back up until you can tell me what you learned in church today.”

Jim let go of Michael’s arm and he followed his sister down the basement stairs, upset that he’d have to miss the football game on TV.

They headed toward the back room behind the boiler. “What do we do now?” he asked.

Connie fell to her knees, her short black hair bouncing as she peered into the crawl space behind the boiler. “No problem.”

“What are you doing?”

“Hold on, give me a sec.”

She reached in with her hand. “Got it.” She pulled out a small, dusty, pocket handbook.

“What else you got in there?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

He shrugged. “Whatever.”

Connie hopped up, wiping the dirt from the cover. She flipped through several pages. “Here, look. What’s today’s date again? Yeah, this is it.” Her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

Michael read the page and understood. “Nice.”

For the next few minutes, they sat and read the gospel from that Sunday together.

Michael looked at his sister, surprised they’d been communicating without tearing each other apart.

“Are you ready to go upstairs?” she asked, after quizzing him a few times.

He nodded with enthusiasm. “I know it now. It’s about Thomas doubting Jesus was alive and he wanted to touch his wounds. It’s gross but I guess that’s what Dad wants, right?”

“Yeah, right.” She dropped her hands down so he could slap a low five. He walloped her hand hard. “Hey, that hurt,” she yelled.

Loud, heavy footsteps crossed the floor above their heads. “What’s going on down there?” Jim called down.

“Nothing,” Connie said. “We’re ready to talk to you.”

“Then get up here.”

They ran up the steps, eager to share their newfound information. Standing before their father, they lifted their heads high with pride as Connie started the story and Michael finished it. They both stood in front of their father, grinning.

Jim stopped rocking back and forth in the recliner, and strained to see, like he did when he was suspicious. “Next week I’ll ask you again,” he said. “And you better know it the first time. No more trips to the basement.” He picked up his paper off the floor and held it front of his face.

“Can we go?” Michael asked with trepidation.

Jim’s eyes peeked over the paper. “Go.”

As they scurried back up the stairs, Michael leaned over and whispered, “That was a great idea. I really liked teaming up with you.”

“Yeah.” Connie smiled back. “Me, too.”

“Hey, did you fall in the toilet?” Connie’s voice brought Michael back to the present.

He opened his eyes, stood and splashed more cold water on his face, toweled himself off, heaved a deep breath, and returned to the living room.

“What were you doing in there?” she asked. “Did you fall asleep? Did you fall in the toilet?”

“Wasn’t sleeping. Just deep in thought.”

“I know I don’t visit a lot, but I can tell I’m not really welcome here.”

“It’s because sometimes you can be a pain in the backside,” he said. “But I hang on to the good stuff we used to do together.”

She put her glass down and wiped the corner of her eyes.

“Oh, no,” he said, surprised. “What’s wrong? I thought I said something nice.”

Tears ran down her face faster than she could dry them. “You don’t understand. My life is a mess. I’m lonely and scared.” She fumbled with her purse. “I’m sure that makes you happy. Right?”

“Of course it doesn’t make me happy. Why would you think that?”

“I’m a loser. My husband left me, I’m eating cupcakes and cookies for breakfast, I don’t even feel like putting on makeup anymore and I’m spending Friday night drinking with my little brother.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Oh, shut up, you know what I mean.”

He burrowed through his pockets and handed her a tissue.

She took it and dabbed her eyes. “Thanks.”

They sat in awkward silence until Michael felt she had composed herself. “I’m expecting Elizabeth home soon.”

“Oh, great,” she said. “I can’t let my niece see what a loser I am.”

“Stop. You’re not a loser. Elizabeth doesn’t think that either.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You think I don’t appreciate the times you helped me with her when she was young? The times you took her to the movies when I had to work. She told me how you spoiled her with candy and popcorn at the movies. She still remembers how you both laughed when you spilled a big bag all over the seat. She’ll always have those wonderful memories, and she brags about how fun and cool her Aunt Connie is.”

A peaceful understanding of silence fell between them. “Let me call you a cab. You’re in no condition to drive and I won’t let you anyway. You know how I am about that.”

She nodded and her body shook. “I miss Sammie so much.”

“I miss her too.”

She stood. “Look at me. I’m a mess.”

He walked over and hugged her. “I’m not much better.”

“Did Dad call?”

“Me?”

“Yes. Did he call you?”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Why? Is the old man dying?”

“That’s not funny.”

“Is he dying?”

“Now’s not the time to talk about this. I’m sure he’ll talk to you soon.”

A glint of light snaked its way through the jagged blinds, striking Michael in the face as he turned over to relieve the throbbing in his head. He slid under another pillow to muffle the sound of the ringing phone on the night stand.

“Who’s calling at this forsaken hour?” he groaned.
C’mon, machine, pick up.

As Michael reached over to check the caller ID, he knocked the receiver from the cradle, sending it crashing to the floor.
Oh great.

“Hello?” a voice called out from below.

Michael flopped back down onto the bed. “Hold on.”

He rubbed his forehead several times with his fingers, and wiped away the grainy residue from his eyes. The pain in his head ricocheted from side to side as he retrieved the phone. “Yeah?”

“Michael?”

“Who’s this? Why are you calling so early?”

“It’s Dennis. I’m sorry if I woke you. It’s half past ten and I thought you’d be up.”

“I was getting up anyway.”

Michael leaned back on the pillow and closed his eyes.

“I saw you in church yesterday and didn’t stop to talk, because I noticed you were spending time with your daughter. Looked like you two were in a deep discussion and I didn’t want to interrupt.” Michael heard shuffling of paper on the other end of the line. “Is everything okay?”

He sat up, cracking his back against the headboard. “We’re fine. Same old stuff. Thanks for asking.” He yawned. “I cleaned the basement, too.”

“It’s the cleanest place in the church,” Dennis said with a hearty laugh. “I have a few people coming by to make Thanksgiving baskets for our food drive this morning. If you want to come by later and talk, I’ll be free.”

“Are we going to talk about the book again? Did you learn anything new about it?”

The old book that Michael found in the basement had been a constant source of conversation and speculation between the two. Over two hundred years old, it contained stories of miraculous events that occurred in the old church. The pastor was protective of the book and had never let Michael read it.

“We should talk later,” said Dennis. “I was thinking that perhaps you could share your journey to the past with others.”

Michael rubbed his forehead with vigorous strokes. “They’ll think I’m nuts.”

“You were blessed with the gift of time travel. Think it over and I’ll support you if you decide you want to share your story.”

Michael didn’t respond. They said goodbye and hung up the phone. Stretching his arms out, he yawned again. He hadn’t had a solid sleep like that in a long time. He hadn’t even heard Elizabeth come home.

Elizabeth?
“Oh, the class, shoot.” He panicked and staggered down the hallway toward his daughter’s room and knocked on her door. “Lizzy? Are you here?”

He burst into her room. “Lord, what a mess.” He almost tripped over the assortment of history books and papers scattered all over the floor. Her karate robe hung over the computer.
Yup, this was her private mud hole.
Yet he marveled at the neatly made bed. A small, stuffed Pikachu doll stood guard in the middle, a mainstay from her toddler years.

Those were wonderful days.

He stepped out in the hallway. “Elizabeth? Are you home?”

Silence.

He ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. A note was attached to the refrigerator with a calendar magnet.

Dad, gone to class, will be back early afternoon. Auntie C called and said she has to see you when she comes to get her car. You have to be here at 11 to let her in. Have fun.
J
Love, Lizzy

Breathing a sigh of relief, he walked back upstairs into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He wasn’t up to shaving, so he skipped it. He let the water slide down his face for a few moments, the warm heat gently massaging his eyes.

My teenager is taking a class and I’m lying in bed all mor
n
ing. Boy, have things changed
.

He stepped out of the shower onto the worn monkey mat, careful not to get the tile wet.
I’ve got to get rid of this thing.
He considered sneaking it out the door and pitching it into the garbage can when Elizabeth wasn’t looking. It was the one childhood decoration she’d insisted on keeping other than her stuffed, spotted purple bear named Lucy and the beloved Pikachu.

Michael looked in the mirror while brushing his teeth and noticed more gray hairs invading his temples. His eyes still felt crusty so he cupped some water from the faucet into his hands and splashed his face. As he dabbed the moisture away, he could feel wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.
Man, I look bad
. He wasn’t surprised though, since he wasn’t used to drinking more than one glass of wine. He got dressed and lumbered down the stairs into the kitchen.

He hoped his sister’s hangover was worse than his so she wouldn’t show up today.

He surveyed the kitchen.
What a mess.
There were two empty wine bottles on the counter. The odor caused his stomach to lurch. A cereal bowl with hardened Cheerios along with an uneaten hotdog floating in a pot filled with old milk sat in the sink.
Gross
.
When did I cook that?

The doorbell rang.

He pivoted around to the front door. He could hear Connie’s muffled voice on the other side. “Hey, little brother. Open up.”

The night ends and the day begins with Connie. Terrific
.

“Hold your horses,” Michael said as the bell chimed again.

“Hey, bro,” she said, brushing past him and into the living room. She dropped to her knees, moving her hands underneath the recliner. “How’s your head feeling? Can’t handle your liquor? Boy, were you a mess last night. Where’re you going today? Paris? London? I bet the Starship Enterprise will be docking outside any minute.”

He plunked down on the sofa, rubbing the back of his neck. “What do you want?”

“I lost my cell phone. Did you see it? Did you call that girl from Jerusalem?” She laughed. “Thought you could pull one over on your big sister, didn’t you? So where did you put my cell phone?”

“How in the magical world of Disney would I know?”

She stood, putting her hands on her hips. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to help me find it?”

He pulled the pillows off the couch and ran his hands beneath the seat cushions. The sooner he helped her find it, the sooner she would leave.

Sighing, he said, “Nothing over here. You sure you had it last night?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Just keep looking.”

As he stood, he let out a load groan.

“Getting old, little brother, aren’t you?”

“Not as old as you,
older
sister,” he retorted as he took the wine glasses off the coffee table and brought them into the kitchen.

“Very funny. Is it in there?”

He left the glasses by the sink before checking the counter. “Nope.” He picked up a cell phone from the counter. “This one’s mine.” He flipped it open. “Great. Dead.”

He went back into the living room and saw all the cushions scattered on the floor. The drawers from his desk were pulled out and she was rummaging through their contents. “What are you doing?” he asked, annoyed.

“Help me.”

“It’s not in my desk. Listen, I’ve got to get going. Put the stuff back. Now.”

“Sorry I bothered you, little brother.”

“Stop calling me little brother,” he snapped.

Surprise registered on her face. She slammed the desk drawers shut. “You’re more like the old man than you think. So cranky after a night of drinking.”

He grabbed his coat from the hall closet. “Close the door on your way out.”

“Where are you going?”

“To church.”

“Church? But we haven’t found my cell phone yet.”

He remembered his own cell phone and ran into the kitchen, pulled the charger from the junk drawer and plugged it into the wall. He jotted down a brief note on a sheet of paper and stuck it on the fridge next to Elizabeth’s note.

“I’m leaving now,” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Wait up.”

He blew out a frustrated growl. “What now?”

“My cell phone. I need it,” she said, meeting him by the door.

“So call the phone company and get a new one. What’s the big deal?”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“It’s a stinking cell phone. Look, let me call it. Maybe we’ll hear the ring.”

“No, it won’t work.”

“Why?”

“It was dead when I came over last night. I didn’t have a chance to recharge it.”

“Then why are you getting so upset?”

“I had something important on it.”

“What could be so important? You can always get the contact numbers again.”

She looked away and wiped her eyes. “I had a text message from Craig on it that I…I saved...and...a photo of us. Our last one. In our favorite restaurant. Can you believe he told me there?”

“Oh.”

She twisted her wedding ring. “His text was the last time he wrote ‘love you’ to me.”

He inhaled a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Okay, let’s keep looking.”

“No.” She shook her head and waved her hand. “You have to get going. I don’t want to stop you.”

He patted her on the back. “We can find it later. Why don’t you come with me? The cell phone will eventually turn up and this will get your mind off things for a bit.”

“To church?” Her eyes widened. “With you?”

“Yes. Just like old times.”

“Old times? More like ancient times. Which church are you going to these days?”

“I’ll surprise you. Let’s just make sure we lay off the church wine.”

Connie actually let out a genuine laugh with no mocking in its tone. A sound he hadn’t heard in a long time.

Backpack in hand, Elizabeth ran outside from her classroom at noon into the crisp, sunny day. She unlocked the chain that secured her red bike against the fence. Zipping up her denim jacket, she tugged down on an old Islanders hockey snow hat and adjusted her earphones. She hit the speed dial to call a friend to find out what time they’d be getting together.

After the phone call, she slipped it into her backpack and hopped on her bike. She pedaled down Larkfield Road, speeding past the candy store. She pushed hard on the brakes and skidded.
I should get Dad his newspapers so it’ll
give him som
e
thing to do today.
Yep. Keep him busy.

She raced into the parking lot, flipped a wheelie, catapulted over the curb, and locked the bike against the garbage bin. “Hi, Sam,” she called out as she entered the store.

“Well, well, look who it is. My goodness, you’ve grown so much. I remember when you were just a baby,” said the gray-haired man behind the register.

Elizabeth giggled. “You say the same thing every time I come in here. I’m a young woman now.”

“A woman? My, you can’t be much more than thirteen.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fourteen.”

Sam laughed. “How can I help you, sweetie?”

“Picking up my dad’s newspapers.”

“Where’s your dad?”

“He was still sleeping when I left the house.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Wow, that’s a change. So it’s your job now to get the papers?”

“Today it is.”

He handed her the
Wall Street Journal
,
Investors Business Daily
, the
Northport Observer
,
and the
Northport Times
. Elizabeth also picked up two sports magazines. “There,” she said. “This should keep him busy this weekend. Right?”

“I guess.”

Elizabeth handed him the rest of the pizza money from the previous night. “See ya.”

Sam laughed. “See you when you’re fifteen.”

“I
am
almost fifteen,” she said over her shoulder.

She tucked the magazines and newspapers inside her backpack and pedaled her way onto Waterside Avenue, staying in the right-hand bike lane. The riding area was narrow in Northport, keeping her almost pinned against the curb. A loud horn sounded behind her. A few seconds later, it blared again.

“Seriously, how much room am I taking up?” She listened intently to the car gaining on her as she hugged the curb.

The horn sounded a third time.

“Give it a rest, will ya,” she yelled as she braked to look behind her.

“Give what a rest?” the driver yelled back as the car pulled up next to her and the passenger window slid down.

She smiled when she saw it was Matt. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“I thought you were some jerk trying to run me off the road.”

“Wrong on both counts. Right?”

Elizabeth laughed. “Of course.”

“You need a ride?”

“I’ve got my bike.”

Matt leaned across the front seat and opened the door. “I know you’ve got your bike, but I thought you might want to save some energy.”

“Now that’s ‘environmentally-not-so-savvy’ of you. Professor Black would be so upset.” She smirked at him before noticing another car approaching. He tracked it in his rearview mirror. The woman in the driver’s seat scowled as she drove by them.

Elizabeth hesitated. “I don’t know, Matt. I think I should just bike it home.”

“Why? Come on. Get in. You never let me drive you. What’s up with that?”

She shook her head. “Long story. Sad story. A dad story.”

Elizabeth saw the dejection in his face.
Oh great. I’ll lose a chance to go out with him because my dad is psycho about me getting in a car with any teenager.

“You haven’t had anything to drink, have you?” she asked.

“Like what?”

She felt stupid. “You know. Alcohol.”

“What?” Matt looked annoyed. “Do you really think I would drink and drive?”

He started to pull away.

“Stop. Stop, Matt. I just wanted to be sure.”

He turned the engine off and clicked his hazards on.

“You know me. I wouldn’t drink and drive.”

She nodded as Matt opened his door and walked to the back of the car to get her bike. “Ah, I don’t know if it’s going to fit. Can we take off a wheel or something?”

Elizabeth effortlessly disconnected the brake before removing the front wheel and Matt took the bike frame from her.

As Matt struggled to squeeze the bike frame and front wheel into the trunk, Elizabeth settled into the passenger seat. She pulled her Islander hat off, checking in the side mirror to see if her hair was flat. She buckled her seatbelt and observed the contents of the opened and unused ashtray.
Is that a guitar pick
?