His heart stung. Why did he torture himself this way? Why did he have to dream about her again last night when those days of dreaming should be over? It was too far away now, too many years behind him. As hard as he tried to reflect into the past, the only thing he seemed to remember about her were the tiny dimples that formed in her smooth cheeks when she smiled.
And that she was beautiful—the most beautiful person in the world. He was 5 years old when he first told her he wanted to marry her. She had pulled his small frame against her warm body and hugged him, kissed him, and reminded him repeatedly how much her love for him grew every day.
Drake brushed a tear away and wished he could envision her clearly in his mind. His dad had thrown away almost every reminder, but it wasn’t another picture of her Drake wanted to see. He wanted to remember her as she really was—in motion, talking, breathing, and all the other things pictures fell short of. That part of her was so hard to see anymore.
The way her long, dark hair flowed down her shoulders was still surprisingly clear to Drake, but the rest of her face was one huge blur. The picture he had of her was almost impossible to see any longer because of all the ugly creases in it. His dad had never said anything to him about his mom; but for years, Drake had blamed himself for her sudden leaving. Maybe he wasn’t the perfect child she had always dreamed of having. Perhaps he had asked for a specific toy one Christmas, even though he knew his parents were broke and in enough debt already. It had to be something, Drake told himself. She wouldn’t have simply packed her bags and left for no reason.
But the part that killed him the most was that there was never any discussion of her. It was almost as if he and his dad had a silent understanding between themselves. Drake never asked questions—for the most part, anyway—and his dad never offered to answer any. At times, it felt as if she had never even been a part of their lives. But Drake knew otherwise; and tonight, he was determined to find answers.
Drake sat up suddenly as the doorknob twisted. He watched the door swing open as the large silhouette of his father stumbled inside.
Ben jumped and put a hand to his chest. “What’re you tryin’ to do, scare me half to death? What’re you up past midnight for anyway? Don’t you have school tomorrow or somethin’?”
Drake rolled his eyes at the empty beer bottle his dad still clung to, as if it were some sort of trophy of the night’s events. Disgusting. “I graduated, remember?” He sighed and said, “No, I shouldn’t expect you to remember anything when you’re drunk like this. After you go to the bathroom and throw your guts up for an hour straight, your son would like to talk to you.”
Ben glowered at him and stumbled toward his chair so he could relieve his unsteady legs. “I’m not drunk. I can talk.”
Drake brusquely stood up and strode over to the other end of the room. He turned only slightly to see his father. “Do you remember what today is?”
“Monday, I think,” Ben mumbled, massaging his aching head. “Yeah, that’s right. Monday, cause Paul and Albert—”
“I swear, I’ll strangle the life outta those friends of yours if they keep makin’ you come home like this!” Drake said, landing a solid kick in the side of his dad’s recliner. The fabric ripped at the seams.
“Oh, go to bed. They bought my beer tonight. I had to join ’em.”
“Bought your beer,” Drake repeated sarcastically. “Bought you another sleepless night, you mean.”
“You’re just jealous you didn’t go. I know what it is.”
“No, I have a life. May not be much, but it’s a lot more’n you got.” He shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Point is, I knew you’d forget.”
“Forget what?”
“Your own son’s eighteenth birthday.” Drake paced back over to the couch and rested his forehead in his hands. “What an accomplishment,” he mumbled. “Another year’s come and gone, and my life still stinks just as bad as it did a year ago.”
“Oh, brother, just spit it out!” Ben said finally, slapping the armrest beside him. “What do you want? Money? Too late for that. Don’t have any left.”
“No, something else.”
“What?”
“Mom’s journal,” Drake said slowly, watching his dad’s reaction out of the corner of his eye.
Ben stuttered, attaching curses to most of his words. “What? Why? What could you possibly want with that old thing?”
“Do you still have it?”
“Yeah, uh…in that old video box, I think. But what does that have to do with you?”
Drake forced a laugh, despite his rage. “Because she’s my mom, and I’d finally like to have some of my questions answered. I want to know why she left and where she was going.”
His dad snorted. “You want it, you can have it. I ain’t got no use for it.”
Drake clasped his hands together and leaned forward in his seat, more serious now. Maybe in his drunken state of mind, his dad would finally open up. “Why did Mom leave?”
Ben heaved a sigh and straightened out of his chair. “Don’t use that voice on me. It stopped working years ago.”
“Dad, I need to know. I can’t keep wondering like this forever.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“What do you mean you don’t want to talk about it? She was your wife and my mother. You can’t just push her away and act like she never existed. What’s wrong with you anyway? Why do you keep avoiding my questions?”
“I’m going to bed.”
Drake seized his dad by the arm and yanked him back. “No! I’ve waited for hours for you to come home because this is important to me. I deserve an answer!”
“You don’t want to know her.”
“What are you talking about? Of course, I want to know her! I can’t help but want to know. She’s my mom. I’ve studied the pictures, Dad. I’m not blind. I look just like her. At least you can tell me something about—”
“That’s enough!” Ben said fiercely, jerking away from Drake’s hold. “I refuse to discuss this any longer. Good night!” He stomped off to his bedroom and slammed the door shut.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Drake said under his breath, infuriated with his father’s stubbornness. “I’ll just find out for myself.”
He went outside to the shed and flicked on the single bulb. Old car parts and insulation pieces littered the floor. He pushed aside empty paint cans and plastic bags and winter boxes until his hands touched a wrinkled cardboard box marked Videos.
A chill ran through his body. Here was the only thing left that would ever link him to his mother.
Chapter
3
EMPTY PAGES
Ronnie seemed out of place, hesitant. He approached every object, even the staircase, as if it belonged in a “Do Not Touch” museum. Finally, he turned to Andrew with a questioning look.
“Hey, you act like you’ve never seen this place before, even though you’ve been here several times.” Andrew sat on the second stair to get on eye-level with Ronnie. “You’re not second-thinking any of this, are you?”
Ronnie kept his mouth tight.
Andrew began to grow worried. “Ronnie, I…”
“I wanna stay.”
“You do?”
“Don’t let them take me back.”
“Oh, no. No, Ronnie. Let who take you back?”
“Mommy and Daddy.”
Andrew blinked several times to keep his eyes dry. “Ronnie, you’re not leaving here. This isn’t a visit anymore. You’re really staying. We…we talked about all this.”
“I know. I just didn’t know if it was really real or not.”
Andrew smiled gently. “It’s really real. We’re gonna have a lot of fun together, you and me. Baseball games, sledding, you name it.”
Ronnie surveyed the room again. “It’s weird to think about.”
Even these things take time, Andrew assured himself. He asked God privately in his heart if he had acted too quickly. Or ma
ybe, if anything, he had just been too late.
He rose to his feet and slid a hand in his pocket. “Tell you what. Why don’t we go to Grandma’s house, and you can spend some time with her while I go get your toys?”
Ronnie showed a smile. “OK.”
Andrew reached his mom’s house in nineteen minutes. The picturesque, farm-looking house framed in by a simple nut-brown fence was a place he never got tired of seeing. He had phoned his mom already to let her know they would be coming. He only hoped that when he came back to pick Ronnie up, he would be just as cheerful as he was now.
Andrew’s mom ran to embrace Ronnie before he even reached the porch. After a moment of brief greetings, Andrew checked his watch. He gave his mom an anxious look before he bent down to give Ronnie a hug. “I won’t be gone long, buddy.”
“Promise?” Ronnie said, clinging to his uncle’s sleeves.
“I promise.” Andrew lifted Ronnie’s chin with his finger and stared into those mysterious, dark eyes of his that harbored something so vastly profound and yet somehow simple all at the same time. “I’ll bring back all your toys, and then I’ll help you set up everything just the way you want it in your new bedroom.”
“And the banana smoothie?” Ronnie reminded him. “You won’t forget?”
“How could I?” Andrew ruffled Ronnie’s light brown hair, then looked up at his mom. “I appreciate your watching him till I get back. I uh…”
Kara, Andrew’s mother, sensed that Andrew needed to talk to her in private. “Why don’t you go inside and find your uncle’s old container of cars?”
“Can I?” Ronnie scurried into the house as if in search of buried treasure, making Andrew laugh. “It’s good to see him so happy and full of life,” he said, holding the door open for his mother.
“It’s good to see you happy and full of life,” Kara said, taking his hands in hers. “Your life will be full again, but don’t expect to keep him over there all the time. I want to see him often too, you know.”
“You got it, Sergeant,” Andrew said, saluting her.
“Oh, stop it,” Kara said, waving him on. “Now, really, tell me about your trip. What did he say?”
“Ronnie’s a great kid, considering all he’s been through.” Andrew jingled his keys around in his pocket, trying to think of what to say next. “Just pray for me as I go up to Kevin’s, will you? I don’t want this to turn into a fight.”
“Do you think they’ll give you Ronnie’s things?” Kara said. “Willingly, I mean?”
“I’d think so, but maybe that’s just my wishful thinking breaking through again. After all, they don’t have any use for them anymore, and Kevin sure isn’t the sentimental type who’d keep things just for memory’s sake.” He looked at the ceiling and sighed forcefully. “I dread even going up there, but I have to keep reminding myself that this is for Ronnie’s good, not mine.”
“When do you expect to be back?”
“I’m guessing seven o’clock. Will you be OK for that long?”
Kara rolled her eyes at him. “Andrew, your eyes deceive you. With every day that goes by, I grow younger inside. Don’t worry about us.” She paused and listened to the sounds of wheels rattling against furniture and Ronnie making rumbling engine noises. “See? He already sounds like he’s having a good time.”
Andrew decided to leave the conversation at that and took hold of the doorknob. “I noticed your mailbox when I turned into the driveway. The mystery mailbox-smashers are still at it, I see.”
Kara just shook her head. “It happened again last night.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“It was past midnight, and by that time, even I was too tired to care. Nicole’s husband heard them when they smashed my mailbox, though, and ran outside just in time with a flashlight to get a glimpse of their license plate. He gave it to the police this morning.”
“Man, I’d give anything to have that guy’s eyesight when I turn his age,” Andrew said, amazed that a 70-year-old man still had such incredible vision. “What are you going to do about your mailbox until the police catch the culprits?”
“Oh, I haven’t even started worrying about that. Maybe you could get me a new one for my birthday next month,” Kara said, smiling.
“A mailbox isn’t exactly a birthday gift, Mom. I’ll pick up one on my way back.” He winked at her and added, “I’ll see if I can find a thick, metal one. Make ’em think twice before they come back to this house again.” Then he turned serious and cracked the door open, sending a burst of cool air inside. He rubbed his arms and stared in the distance at the red clouds hovering over the sunset. Something inside him clawed at his heart, something much colder than the evening air. Fear? Possibly. But more than anything else, it was that wrenching feeling of stepping out into the unknown. “I guess I’ll be on my way then,” he said, barely moving his lips. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”
“Be careful, Andrew.”
Drake Pearson became so engrossed in his mother’s journal that he frequently had to remind himself to breathe. As if through a hazy dream, he felt he was seeing her again for the first time in years—her feelings, her joys…her love for him. So she really did love him before she left. That brought peace to his heart. He wanted to believe that she had always loved him and that it had pained her to leave him, for whatever reason that might have been.
Drake took in every word she had written down, sometimes reading a sentence two or three times because this was the only opening he had left to her past. She had begun the journal a few months after she and Ben had gotten married, and had continued writing throughout her pregnancy and through Drake’s early years as a toddler, which was where Drake was reading now.
I took Drake with me to the grocery store the other day, which he seemed to enjoy very much. Other than wanting to put everything on the shelf into our buggy, he was very helpful and often stretched his little arms up to push the buggy around for me. He’s so sweet at this age. Sometimes I wish he would stay like this forever, but I’m looking forward to the years ahead I’ll spend with him.
Drake wiped his eyes and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, wishing he were hearing his mom tell him this in person rather than reading on paper what took place so long ago. He turned the page and continued reading.
At the checkout, there was a stack of free booklets, so I picked one up and stuck it in my purse to read later. I love to read, but because Ben and I don’t make much money, I’ve never been able to actually buy books. As soon as I got home, I opened the booklet and began reading. It was about a man named Jesus and how He came to love people, even enough to allow Himself to be crucified for them. It said something about God sending His Son to die so that we could live forever with Him one day. I don’t know when it happened, but I soon realized that I was crying because there were tearstains covering the small pages I was reading. The next thing I knew, I was on my knees saying something about how sorry I was for my sins. Drake must have heard me, because he walked in and asked why I was crying. I knew I should have felt embarrassed at this strange, sudden emotion welling up inside me, but all I could think about was that someone out there loved me enough to die for me. I read more until I reached the end of the booklet. It said that if I wanted to know more about Jesus, I could find it all and more in the Bible. I went straight to the trunk at the end of my bed and found a Bible a friend had given me at a Bible camp I had attended as a little girl. It was a children’s version, but the message inside was for children and adults alike. I found the verse I had read—John 3:16—and continued reading until my eyes were so blurred with tears that I couldn’t read anymore.
Drake tore his eyes away from the pages to stare out the foggy window in front of him. Mom read the Bible? I never knew that about her. Then again, I guess I never knew much about anything in her life until now.
He glanced back down and turned the page, noticing from the date that the next entry in her diary had been written three days later.
For the last three days, Ben has been irate. I told him I had asked Jesus into my heart and explained to him everything the book had explained to me; but his response was very, very different from mine. He doesn’t want anything to do with Christianity or the Bible, and his attitude toward me has been nothing but anger and resentment. I keep trying to tell him about Jesus and His sacrifice for us on the cross because we’re sinners, but he refuses to listen. I’ve tried praying for him, but sometimes words are hard to find when you’re praying for someone you love who you know despises everything you believe in. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get through to him or not, but I do know one thing—I will continue to try to help him understand, and when Drake is old enough, I will do the same for him because I love him.
Drake slid his mom’s neon green bookmark between the pages and placed the journal under his mattress. He had anticipated ahead of time that he would get a few shockers by reading his mom’s journal, but nothing could have prepared him for this. His mom, a Christian? They weren’t church people. No one in his family had ever fallen for the redemption bait. His mom was already a good person and had never lied or stolen, so why did she of all people need God? Maybe that was where she went, going off to join a church somewhere and enlighten the rest of the world about this Jesus guy. But what about him, her own son? Why would she have left him behind?
I’m not gonna hold it against her. I can’t. Whatever she did, she would have only done it to help us. His mom may have become a Christian, but she was no lunatic. She wouldn’t have abandoned him without a reason. Drake only wished he knew what that reason was.
Andrew finished what was left of the lukewarm cappuccino froth clinging to the bottom of his cup as he pulled into his brother’s driveway. After resisting the urge to toss the cup into Kevin’s front yard, he closed his eyes and silently prayed to God once more for peace. He didn’t want to do this, wasn’t looking forward to it, and frankly, didn’t mind if he and Kevin did get into a fighting match because, in a way, he wanted to give Kevin a couple of bruises himself and have a good excuse for doing it.
Broken Identity Page 3