Ginny Moon

by Benjamin Ludwig

“Sure.”

  So I unfold the paper and read.

  Dear Ginny,

  I’m really glad to have the chance to talk with you. It sure has been a long time. By now you know that I’m your father. I met Gloria when a buddy of mine wanted a cat. He looked into Maine coons and set up a time to go see some. At your mom’s house. My buddy didn’t get a cat but I got a date. Your mom was the smartest girl I ever met. We dated for a while and then she said she was going to have a baby. I wanted to marry her. We even had plans for a wedding but she left with you a few days after you were born. I left to go to work and when I came back that night to the hospital she was gone. Apparently she went to Canada. I found her later back in Maine but she said she didn’t want to see me. I think another man was involved and maybe drugs too. Anyway it was over between us so I stayed away. Dads don’t really have any rights. I stayed in touch with her over the phone and email but that was the most she would allow. Then after a few years she changed her number. She stopped answering my emails and cut me out of the picture completely.

  Then I heard about the kidnapping so I went to the police and told them everything I could remember. I said I didn’t think Gloria could pull off something like that because she’s not so great at keeping cool and they asked who could so I said her sister Crystal. Then I remembered the summer house she bought and the rest is history.

  But I learned that day that you weren’t with Gloria anymore and that you were adopted. Your new folks seem pretty nice. They’re open to us getting to know one another. I hope you’re open to that too.

  Some things about me. I drive truck. I haul big rigs up and down the coast. I’m not home a lot but I have a nice place and a girlfriend who takes care of things when I’m away. We even have a dog. A beagle named Sammy. We don’t have any kids of our own though.

  So what do you say? Will you write me a letter? I hope you will.

  Your Old Dad,

  Rick

  So I say, “Wait—why did he write that?” And point to the very last word.

  “You mean Rick?”

  I nod my head yes.

  “That’s his name,” my Forever Dad says.

  “His name is Rick?”

  “It starts with the letter R,” he says. “You know, like red.”

  “Humph,” I say and I start picking at the skin around my fingernails.

  Rick is a small name. It sounds like lick or tick or dick which is a bad word. Rick is a fast name. It makes your mouth feel like too much cherry candy or like you have something small and bright made out of red plastic in there.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks.

  “I feel hungry,” I say. “And I feel like I should have a beverage. I should watch a video on my DVD player in my room and have a little drink. When is Rick coming over?”

  “He isn’t coming over,” my Forever Dad says. “But he wants to know if you’ll write to him. Do you want to write him a letter?”

  “Mostly,” I say. “But not today. It’s not on my list.”

  “You could put it on your list if you wanted,” he says. “I could help you write it.”

  I shake my head no. “Maybe tomorrow,” I say. “Can I watch my video now?”

  “Don’t you want to talk about the letter?”

  “No.”

  Because I don’t. I already read it and I know what it says. It says that my dad drives truck and he wants to get to know me. I’m guessing the truck has plenty of room for all my things. I need time to go in my brain to think.

  “I need to watch a video now,” I say. I stand up.

  “All right, then,” my Forever Dad says. “You can watch your video. We’ll talk about this some other time.”

  “And I need a beverage.”

  “Then I’ll get you a beverage.”

  EXACTLY 9:08 AT NIGHT,

  TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 2ND

  I am in bed thinking. My quilt is spread out over my belly and legs. I am lying on my back.

  In my head I need to say what happens to me right after it happens. I need to say it all back to myself because it helps me understand. That’s why I talk inside my brain. It’s like a diary except I’m not so good at writing. I used to say it all out loud when I was in the apartment but Donald said it drove him bat-shit crazy. Then he said I should keep my mouth closed and not walk around with it open because it makes me look like a cave girl. No one can hear what I say inside my head because that’s where my brain is. It helps me do things when no one is looking. Like when I used to look for mayonnaise and ketchup packets and food in the garbage when Gloria and Donald or one of her other man-friends were upstairs.

  But now I have to get ready to write a letter to Rick. I can’t just say the words in my head and leave them there. I have to write them. On paper. Writing is hard work but I need to do it because I have to get Rick to give me a ride up to Canada. I bet he has dual citizenship just like Gloria and Crystal with a C. And me. But I have to get him to tell Gloria to meet us there. That is my new secret plan.

  So I will talk the letter in my head tonight and then I will ask my Forever Dad to help me type it tomorrow. The letter will go exactly like this:

  Dear Rick,

  I do not love the name Rick. No offense. I’m just saying. Maybe we could call you Richard or Kevin or even Bobby. We can’t call you Michael Jackson because Michael Jackson is my favorite singer-dancer in the whole world. I have a picture of him on my wall in my room plus the calendar. He’s my biggest fan.

  I am writing you a letter because I put it on my list. I want you to come take me in your truck and bring me to Canada. Tell Gloria to come there with my Baby Doll and meet us. We can all live there together unless you want to go back to live with your girlfriend and Sammy instead. I’m OK with that. If you can’t come right now then please go to Harrington Falls to see if my Baby Doll is OK. Gloria needs help taking care of it. Don’t let her go away for a few days like she always does. Help her like Crystal with a C used to help her. Show her how to change its diaper and how to give it plenty of food. Bring some milk with you because there won’t be any in the refrigerator. And even though it’s too little to understand please tell my Baby Doll that I’m sorry about the suitcase. I tried to keep it safe but I got scared when the police came.

  Something you should know about me is that I get mad when people tell me they’ll do something and then they don’t do it. You should underline that part and then save this note in your pocket and not forget. Write back soon so I’ll know if you’re going to help me or not. Plus we have to figure out a way to get my Forever Parents to let me go with you. I don’t think kidnapping will work this time.

  Yours Truly,

  Ginny Moon

  I say the letter over and over until it says exactly what I want it to say. Tomorrow I will ask my Forever Dad to help me write it all down.

  EXACTLY 4:17,

  WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 3RD

  When I got to school this morning I looked out the window of the bus to the place where I saw the Green Car on September 14th. I wanted to see it but it was not there. I remember driving in the Green Car near the window that was broken. The plastic used to move back and forth and sometimes Gloria would stop to put more duct tape on it. Sometimes we used to sleep in the car when we went somewhere. Gloria said it was like camping but a lot more fun because when you go camping you have to sleep on the ground. We don’t want to sleep on the ground, do we? she used to say. I didn’t answer because I didn’t talk yet. I learned to talk when I was five.

  That was a long time ago.

  And now a man named Rick says he is my Birth Dad. I would like to get to know him but first I need to get him to bring me to Canada.

  I come up out of my brain. I am standing on the bottom step waiting for my Forever Mom to turn around in the kitchen. I
don’t want to say anything because I don’t want to make her mad. My Forever Sister is sleeping which is why my Forever Mom is downstairs. She comes down here sometimes when she thinks I’m not home or when I’m in my room with the door closed. I haven’t seen her in three days.

  “Are you staring at me, Ginny?” she says. Without turning.

  I start to answer but then I stop. I am starting to forget how to talk with her. I only know how to talk with my Forever Dad now.

  “Ginny, I asked if you’re staring at me.”

  “I’m waiting for you to turn around,” I say.

  “And are you staring while you wait?”

  Staring means you look with your eyes for a long time and don’t move. Some people say it’s tedious.

  “Yes,” I say. I put my head down. “I am sorry.”

  My Forever Mom turns around. She picks up a pan and puts it on the stove. “All right, what’s up?” she says.

  She does not mean the ceiling or the sky so I try hard not to look in those places. “I wrote a letter to Rick,” I say. “I used my best handwriting.”

  When I say Rick it sounds quiet and dumb like there is a piece of poop on the floor and everyone is looking at it. Poop always looks quiet and dumb. Sometimes I feel that way too.

  “I know,” my Forever Mom says. “Your dad told me. Do you want me to hear it?”

  “Yes, I do,” I say and then I read it.

  Dear Rick,

  My name is Ginny and I am 14 years old. I love Michael Jackson. He died on June 25, 2009. He has all the best moves. I also like to listen to Diana Ross. Do you know what she did? A duet with Michael Jackson.

  But I am glad we can write letters. I never knew I had a Birth Dad even though everyone has one. Can you come visit?

  Sincerely,

  Ginny Moon

  Because I found out that I can’t say what I really want to say in the letter when my Forever Dad helped me type it today. Today we spent exactly twenty-three minutes talking and typing. It started out the way I had it in my head last night but then I figured out that I had to change it. I will say what I need to say to Rick when he comes to visit. I will say it quietly in his ear. It will be our little secret which is something I heard in a movie.

  My Forever Mom says, “You really think you’re ready to meet him already?”

  I nod my head yes.

  “That’s awfully trusting of you. Don’t you want to see what sort of person he is? Through his letters, I mean.”

  I don’t know what it means to see what sort of person he is or through his letters so I don’t say anything.

  “Don’t you want to see if you can trust him?” she says.

  “How do I know if I can trust him?”

  She laughs. I am surprised but I really like the way it sounds. “I suppose you’re right,” she says. “For now, let’s just send the letter. Leave it there on the counter, and we’ll type it up and send it to him in an email. There’s still no way we’re letting you anywhere near a computer. So we’ll type it all up and send it and then wait to see what Rick says when he emails back. If it all looks good, we’ll go ahead and schedule a visit. Probably at the park. You know, meeting your Birth Dad might just turn out to be a very good thing for all of us. Who knows what the future will bring?”

  I can think of a lot of people who might know but I don’t say any of their names. Then my Forever Mom shuts the stove off and picks up the pan she was using and scoops some scrambled eggs onto a plate. I remember how Crystal with a C let me eat her eggs. But my Forever Mom doesn’t put the plate down on the table for me. Instead she takes a fork out of the drawer and takes a bite. She chews and swallows. “How do you feel now that you’ve written the letter?” she says.

  “I feel like I should eat something,” I say.

  She wipes her mouth with a napkin. “I mean, how do you feel about what you wrote? Are you happy with it? Is there anything else you might want to add before we send the letter to Rick?”

  “I might want to add some hisses,” I say even though hissing is not the same as saying something. “Like I do at school.” It’s what the Maine coons used to do when they met someone new. It makes me feel strong. I do a lot of things that the Maine coons do.

  “Wait—you hiss at people at school?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “When do you hiss at people?”

  “At lunch and when people laugh at me or say mean things. Sometimes I growl too but hissing is easier.”

  “Why haven’t you told us this before? How often do you hiss at people?”

  And that is two questions together and my Forever Mom is talking fast and her voice is getting louder. I start picking at my fingers.

  “Ginny, hissing at people is not a good thing,” she says. “You aren’t allowed to do it anymore, ever. It’s against the rules.”

  I look away and say, “Well dang!”

  “What do you mean, ‘Well dang!’?”

  I put my hands up in the air like Crystal with a C did and let them fall back down again. “I like hissing at people! It makes them laugh! Then they hiss back and a teacher hears them and makes them leave me alone!”

  “Ginny, they laugh because they’re making fun of you. It’s weird to hiss at people. Only cats do that.”

  “No—I do that too!” I say and it’s true, 100 percent. I learned how to do it a long time ago.

  “I mean only cats are supposed to do that. Forever Girls aren’t supposed to hiss. Ever. You can’t act like a wild animal.”

  “Well dang!” I say again. I wipe my eyes. “I’m going to my room! No more Chinese Checkers! Just stay upstairs!”

  EXACTLY 8:05 IN THE MORNING,

  THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 4TH

  In homeroom my teacher Mrs. Henkel asks me how my day is so I say, “My Birth Dad wrote me another letter last night so I wrote one back to him.”

  The whole class looks at me and is completely silent. I have never heard them be this quiet before. Then Mrs. Henkel says, “Ginny, don’t you mean your Forever Dad?”

  And I say, “No, I mean Rick. He’s the man who Gloria left at the hospital. He drives truck.”

  “You mean he drives a truck.”

  I shake my head. “No, Sarah, I don’t. Don’t you think I know what he said? He’s my Birth Dad, not yours.”

  “Don’t call Mrs. Henkel by her first name,” Ms. Carol whispers. She blinks her too-big eyes.

  The kids in the class are still completely quiet. I like them better that way.

  “Have you been talking with your father?” she asks.

  “Yes, I have,” I say.

  “Does Mrs. Lomos know about this?”

  “Yes,” I say again and I see Ms. Carol nodding. To Mrs. Henkel.

  At exactly 10:08 during social studies I go to the bathroom. Ms. Carol comes too. When I come back to class Michelle Whipple says, “Ginny, do you drive truck?”

  And I say, “No, I do not drive truck. My Birth Dad drives truck. I can’t drive truck because I’m still a kid.”

  Michelle Whipple laughs so I hiss at her even though I’m not supposed to. Then she says, “What, are you going to scratch me or something?”

  “No, I am not going to scratch you. What do you think I am, a cat?”

  “You sure sound like one!” says Michelle Whipple. Then she laughs again and looks at me. I see her eyes looking at me while she smiles. I want to blast her with my eyes like Cyclops or stick her with claws like Wolverine or make fire go on her but I don’t have superpowers or matches so instead I attack.

  I don’t want Michelle Whipple to ever see me again so I am going to take her eyes out. I grab her hair and pull it hard and try to hold her still because if she is moving I can’t get my fingers close enough to her face. I knock a chair d
own and push a desk out of the way. I grunt and show my teeth and screech just like Bubbles. Michelle Whipple whips her head back and forth and screams and tries to hit my hands away with hers but I am attacking like a chimp and in a few seconds I will have one of her eyes in my hand.

  Ms. Carol grabs me before I can get it out. She pulls me away from Michelle Whipple and holds me down so that I can’t move. I am still very angry but I am not angry at Ms. Carol so I stop. But Michelle Whipple is screaming, “You crazy bitch! Crazy bitch!” over and over and so I yell back at her, “You just stop that, Michelle Whipple! You are hurting my ears! This is tedious!”

  EXACTLY 3:31,

  FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 5TH

  I was suspended from school so I stayed home today. Now I am talking with Patrice.

  “Your Forever Parents tell me you got into a fight at school. Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Michelle Whipple made me angry,” I say.

  “Oh?”

  “She said I sound like a cat.”

  “Were you sounding like a cat?” says Patrice. “I remember you used to make cat noises a few years ago when you were with Carla and Mike.”

  Carla and Mike were my first two Forever Parents. I ran away from them when I was nine years old. I told them I was going outside to play and on my way out the door I took Carla’s purse because it had money in it plus a debit card. I walked around town looking for a map that would help me get back to Gloria’s apartment but I got confused by all the cars plus I didn’t know which town she lived in. The police found me and took me to the hospital and then they brought me back to Carla and Mike. Now I know that Gloria lives in Harrington Falls but I can’t go there because the police will find me. Like Crystal with a C said. So I need to ask Rick to be part of my secret plan instead.

  “Ginny?”

  “What?”

  “Did you say you were making cat noises?”

  I nod my head yes.

  “It sounds like we’re falling into some of our old patterns. We’ll have to talk more about that later. For now, tell me what’s going on with Baby Wendy. Are you seeing her more often?”