Survival Strategies of the Almost Brave (5 page)

The floor of the car hummed as the wheels plowed down the highway; the heat from the road warmed the carpet where we sat. I stretched out onto the floor with Billie and linked her hand through mine. I didn't know what was going to happen when the car stopped, but right now I didn't care. We were safe for the moment. I closed my eyes and tried to relax.

I could relax now, couldn't I? Even if it was just for a minute.

 

Survival Strategy #10:

BEWARE OF TRAPS

At the beginning of the summer, two weeks after Mom died, we got into Dad's camper and drove away—thinking he would make everything better. Dad was finally back. But it was like having to trade one parent for another.

A trap.

I thought being with him would be like magic, everything I had ever imagined. But that was a trap, too.

After we put Mom in the ocean, a week later Dad came and got us. He picked us up at Julie's condo, across from ours. Julie thought Dad was probably going to sell our condo, which sounded pretty awful because what about my best friend, Antonio, who lived next door and who had a real, live tarantula
and
a bearded dragon? And when school started I was supposed to go on the seventh grade overnight trip to Catalina Island, which was crawling with wild boar (I really wanted to see a wild boar up close). And could we take our goldfish, George and Martha? When we got them, Mom said Billie and me would kill them in a week, but I had been very responsible about feeding them and changing their water just right, and so far they had lasted over a year.

What would happen to them?

But then I thought about it some more. If Dad sold our condo, then that probably meant we would get to travel with him everywhere he went, like Puerto Rico, and China, and the Amazon rain forest (although I wasn't very excited about the rain forest because I read in school that the Amazonian people were hunters and gatherers and sometimes ate wild monkey or alligator, and I didn't want to eat that; but I did like granola bars, and trail mix, and fruit rolls, so I could probably just eat those). I bet Dad had already planned it all out for us and it would be okay, because I would do anything to be with him again.

Billie and me had already packed our bag. Julie had the key to our condo and promised to lock it up tight and to take care of George and Martha because this summer we would be living with Dad in his camper. And I was so excited/scared that I could have thrown up the chocolate chip pancakes that Julie had made for us that morning. Before Mom died, I didn't know Julie could cook more than takeout, because if she came over for girls' night, that's all she ever brought.

The doorbell rang. Julie opened the door and smiled a huge smile like she saw someone she could hardly wait to see.

Dad stepped inside.

“Sam?” said Julie in a high voice. “How are you?”

Dad, taller than I'd thought he'd be, still had his back to us. He let Julie shake his hand. “Hi,” he said in a voice I wasn't sure if I remembered.

I held my breath. He was really here.

“And the girls,” said Julie, spinning him toward us. “Liberty and Billie. Of course you remember them.”

Dad nodded.

Did he?

“Would you like a Coffee Crisp or anything?” Julie asked, walking over to her jars of candy.

Dad shook his head. “I'm fine.”

The last time I'd seen Dad, I was six and Billie was two. Mom said he met us at McDonald's (because it had a PlayPlace). I always had questions about the Last Time We Saw Dad, like if I heard the story enough I might find a clue to explain why he never came back. But Mom didn't like to talk about that.

I remembered how Billie screamed in her high chair and I unbuckled her to let her get on the big slide. Also, Dad ate two Big Macs, which seemed like a lot of Big Macs compared to the four Chicken McNuggets that Billie and me shared.

Mom said when he came in he needed a shower and he hadn't slept in days. He said he had been camping. I didn't remember that part. But I remembered the crying part. When Mom cried after Dad left. She said Billie got stuck at the top of the indoor slide and Mom sent me to get her out, but Billie wouldn't come. That part I remembered, because I was scared to climb all the way up, and I wanted to stay by Dad, and the slide smelled like dirty diapers and French fries.

And then Dad climbed up, his long legs folding onto the slide like a praying mantis. And he grabbed Billie kind of rough, probably because she was kicking and screaming, and he brought her down the slide. He carried her away from his body and gave her to Mom.

Mom said the last thing he said was, “Here.”

And then he walked out.

I didn't remember that, but I did have a memory of him waving at me through Ronald McDonald's face painted on the restaurant window. After that Mom said she didn't know where he was for a year and a half, and that's when she got a divorce, and there was nothing he could do about it because he had disappeared. She said he was an unreliable genius and not good around people.

After a while Mom said she saw his pictures in a magazine, so she knew he wasn't dead. But he might as well have been, because after that he only ever sent me one thing in my entire life.

In Julie's condo, Dad smiled at us. He didn't look like a genius, or unreliable, or not good around people. Actually, he looked a lot like Billie. Or Billie looked like Dad. And I already knew that from the pictures I saw of him. But looking at him, standing right in front of me, he really looked like Billie. He even had invisible white eyebrows like hers.

“You've gotten big,” he said to Billie. He picked her up like she was a baby. And I thought she'd get mad, but she didn't say anything. Dad said, “The last time I saw you, you were just a baby.”

“I know,” whispered Billie.

“I have something for you,” he said, still looking at Billie. He dug around in his backpack and pulled out a little stuffed koala bear. “It's from Australia.”

Billie smiled shyly and hugged it. I already knew Dad had been to Australia because once, when I was Billie's age, I saw some pictures he took in a magazine when he was there.

Finally he looked at me. “Hi, Liberty.” He reached out awkwardly and grabbed my hand. His was rough and scratchy. “I brought you this.” He pulled something out of his bag. “But I think you might be too old for it now.”

It was a bug hut. You know, the kits you get when you're about five years old to collect spiders and stuff? I used to have one. I used to really love it.

“When you were little, you were crazy about catching bugs,” he said.

“Thanks.” It was nice of him to bring me something, even if I was too old for it.

And that's when I remember being really mad at Mom. How long had she kept him from us? He seemed nice, just sort of shy.

Dad came in and sat on Julie's couch while Billie and me played Go Fish out on the balcony. He crossed his legs and swung his foot as Julie talked and talked and talked.

He and Julie talked for a long time, and most of it I couldn't hear, until Julie finally stood up and walked toward the door to the deck.

She said, “It sounds like you've been doing really well. I'm happy to hear it. I have a good feeling about this. The girls are so excited. Where are you guys headed?”

“We're going to scout out some locations in the desert.”

“All summer?” asked Julie.

“Yep,” said Dad.

“Living in your camper?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Yep,” Dad said. “They'll love it.”

We would, right? Dad was finally back. I'd make sure that Billie and me loved it.

 

Survival Strategy #11:

SOMETIMES YOU SHOULD FEEL SORRY FOR THE COBRA

Julie came and got us from the deck. “Are you excited?”

I nodded and squeezed Billie's hand.

“If you need me, you can call. You have my phone numbers, right? Home and cell?”

I nodded. I had them written in my notebook.

She pulled on her watch that was a bracelet, too. “I'm just going to be working all summer. So you call about anything, okay?”

“Yes,” I said.

She handed Dad a piece of paper with her phone numbers written on it. “Call me with any questions,” she said. “But you don't have to worry; they're good girls.”

Dad nodded.

“It will be fine.” She patted my arm.

But we wouldn't need to call her. Why would we? We had our dad now.

She steered me toward him and put her arm around Billie, smiling too big. “You guys are really going to love getting acquainted after all these years.”

Billie smiled at Dad. I thought she liked him already.

Maybe I did, too.

Dad looked sort of embarrassed. And maybe scared, like Antonio's bearded dragon when I reached into his cage to pick him up. Spike got all squirmy, kicking dust all over the place. Antonio said it was because he wasn't comfortable with me yet. Maybe new/old dads and bearded dragons were the same.

Julie said to Dad, “Children really do belong with family after such tragedies. Don't you agree, Sam? You're ready for it, right? I mean, you feel good about it?”

Dad nodded.

She looked around her living room, running her hands through her hair. “My house is quite small for two girls.”

And really, it was. Her condo had two bedrooms like ours, but the extra bedroom was her office. At first Billie and me had wanted to stay in our own feels-like-Mom condo, and she let us for the first few nights. But then Julie got tired of sleeping on our sofa, since she wouldn't sleep in Mom's room, and she said that we had to stay with her. Her condo was so close, we could just run home to get whatever we needed. We slept in the office on the pullout sofa.

I figured after our summer with Dad things would be more official and if we didn't go to the Amazon or China, maybe Dad wouldn't sell our condo. Maybe we could stay and he could take pictures of things in San Diego. When I told Antonio that, he said I was loco. He said that my mom told his mom that Dad was a loner. He said that my mom told his mom that Dad was a deadbeat. What did Antonio's mom know, anyway?

Mom said Antonio's mom was a busybody. Mom didn't care about gossip; she was too worried about taking care of us. Plus, having kids was really expensive, so Mom had to work a lot. Mom said that all the time. And that's why if I ever got a birthday invitation, I didn't even show it to her because we didn't have money to waste on a present. And really, who cared about that when I knew my invitation was only because we were in the same class at school? When I saw Mom working herself into a sand-crab ball, scrunched up onto the couch, so tired from three night shifts in a row, then I felt bad. I always tried hard to not be expensive.

Anyway, what did Antonio know about anything? He ate dinner with his nosy mom and his dad and his brother every night—he didn't know about missing dads. But the one good thing about Antonio's mom was that she let me come over and hold Spike even if Antonio was at soccer practice. And usually she had extra tamales, or empanadas, or a Coke for me. Antonio's mom was a good cook.

Usually Antonio was a decent friend. He liked animals, he lived close, and he didn't always have to be talking. Being friends with him was better than having to be friends with Suzanne and the girls from my sixth grade class. All their talking and giggling and their liking-of-boys made me tired. Antonio was easy even if he wasn't always nice. I just ignored the bad parts of him. Sometimes you have to do that with people.

Julie turned away from Dad and shoved a Snickers bar into my hand. “It's going to be fine. And if it's not, you call.” She had chocolate on her front tooth.

“Okay,” I whispered.

Then I pulled Billie closer to me and squeezed her hand. I'd make sure everything would be perfect. I'd do it because I had to.

We loaded our suitcase into the camper—Billie and me shared Mom's big one. Then Dad showed us around. The camper was old, but it had a little fridge and a little shower and a big bed for Dad and a smaller one for Billie that folded right out of the cabinet above the kitchen table. And I would sleep on a bed that you could make out of couch cushions and the kitchen table. It was pretty smart. Maybe this living in a camper would be fun.

That first day, Dad let us sit up front with him on the long bench, with seat belts that had fallen behind us like snake tongues. And Billie sat by Dad. And I sat by the window. We drove the longest I had ever driven in a car. Hours and hours. Dad said we were still in California, but I didn't believe him until he showed me the map. California was
big
—filled with freeways and deserts and roads where you could drive for hours and still be in the same state. Soon, Julie was gone. And so was San Diego. And so was the ocean, with Mom in it.

That day Dad didn't talk a whole lot. But he tried, at first. “You look like your mom.”

“I know,” I said. Because I did know. Everyone said that.

“Your hair is the same color. And you have her forehead.”

I nodded. Same brown hair. Same big forehead.

He cleared his throat. “So, you doing okay? After everything…”

I shrugged. “Yeah.”

“I'm really sorry about Cindy,” he said. Cindy was my mom's name.

“Yeah, I know,” I said. I felt uncomfortable talking about Mom, especially to him. “But we're glad you're here now.”

Billie smiled to herself and hugged her koala.

Dad smiled, too.

There was a whole part of me that didn't even believe Mom was dead yet. Or that this dad I had always hoped for was sitting next to me. Did he make chocolate chip pancakes? Was he going to tell us everything he knew about animals? Did he have a notebook just like me?

Having Dad back was supposed to be like magic. Everything should feel normal, right? But it was just weird. I held on to my notebook because it was the only thing that felt real.