Book Read Free

Don't Get Mad, Get Even

Page 10

by Barb Goffman


  I was on my knees when I heard keys in the front door. Oh, no! I quickly snuggled back behind the coats and had almost pulled the closet door shut when Mom and Dad came in. I crooked my head sideways, peering through the crack.

  “You really think she’ll like them?” Mom whispered, holding a bag from Jake, one of the hottest stores here in Winnetka.

  I nearly hyperventilated. My boots! They had to be the black suede boots I wanted!

  “Of course she’ll like them,” Dad said. “She has the same expensive tastes you do, and these boots cost a fortune.”

  He pulled the closet door open, and I nearly hyperventilated again. How would I explain hiding in the closet? If they caught me, Mom might just return the boots to teach me a lesson. She loved doing things like that. I held my breath and tried not to move as Dad reached in and grabbed a hanger.

  “Oh, before I forget,” Mom said.

  Dad looked over his shoulder.

  “The coat I ordered for Cara has come in,” Mom said. “I need you to pick it up tomorrow.”

  Coat? What coat?

  Dad shoved his jacket in the closet and turned, shaking his head back and forth like he always does when he starts getting aggravated. “Why can’t you do it?”

  I took a breath as quietly as possible as Dad snatched another hanger and shoved Mom’s fur-trimmed coat on the rack. It pushed up against my nose, which began tickling.

  “Why can’t I do it?” Mom said. “Because I have a hair appointment, Christmas is right around the corner, and the store’s at Northbrook Court. You’ll be heading that way anyway. Won’t you?” Mom’s tone made clear she knew the answer was yes.

  I swallowed several times, trying to smother the sneeze that now desperately wanted out.

  “You know how limited my time is on Saturdays,” Dad said. “And I won’t be able to go at all next weekend, what with the relatives coming to visit.”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Bill. Cara never gets any of your time on Saturday afternoons. This is the least you can do for her.”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were drawing out this conversation to make me suffer. Heck, maybe they were.

  “Fine,” Dad said, shutting the closet door. “I’ve got to get this ice cream into the freezer before it melts.”

  I waited a few seconds, wrinkling and rubbing my nose, then let out a huge breath. That was close. I waited another thirty seconds before inching the door open. The coast was clear.

  As I snuck back to my room, I wondered yet again what kept Dad busy each Saturday. He always left around lunchtime to “run errands” and came home hours later with a bag of bagels and the Chicago Tribune. I asked to go along once when I was little, but he said no, that he had important, secret work to do. I’d decided then that he was a spy. But of course that couldn’t be true. No way Dad could fix people’s teeth during the week and be a spy on the weekends. And I knew he really was a dentist. I’d suffered in his chair more than once.

  So what was this important, secret work? And why would it piss off Mom? My snooping gene in overdrive, I decided I finally had to find out. Besides, it might give me the chance to check out my new coat at the same time. Maybe it was suede, too, and matched my boots!

  A knock on my bedroom door interrupted my coat fantasy. “Come in.”

  “Just wanted to let you know that we’re home, honey,” Mom said, leaning against the door frame. “We bought some of your favorite strawberry ice cream, in case you want any.”

  “Yum! Thanks. Hey, I made plans to go over to Kim’s tomorrow. FYI.”

  “Okay. Do you want a ride?”

  “No. It’s just a few blocks. The exercise will be good for me. I can work off the ice cream I’m going to eat.”

  Mom smiled. “Sweet dreams, then. I’m getting in bed with my ice cream and my People magazine.”

  Once I heard her bedroom door close, I called my best friend, Kim. She agreed to be my cover for the next day, after making me promise to give her all the details of my spy mission.

  With a plan in place, I sat at the kitchen table with a small dish of ice cream and my algebra homework. Dad always pushed me to get my assignments done Friday night, so I wouldn’t have to worry about them all weekend long. I tried to finish the math, but I honestly couldn’t care less about figuring out what X stood for. I had a bigger puzzle on my mind.

  * * * *

  My alarm woke me at 11 o’clock the next morning. Most weekend days, I sleep till noon. While I hated giving up my catch-up sleep—on school days I have to get up at the obscene hour of six—satisfying my curiosity would be worth it. I took a quick, twenty-minute shower, dressed, blew my hair dry, grabbed some PowerBars, and headed out.

  But instead of walking over to Kim’s, I got in the back of Dad’s blue Lexus and burrowed under the old blanket on the backseat. Mom was going through “the change,” and sometimes she’d get really hot and switch on the car air conditioner, even if it was twenty degrees outside! So Dad left a blanket on the back seat for me to use during family car rides.

  I texted with Kim for a few minutes. When I heard Dad’s keys jingling, I jammed the phone’s off button, plunged onto the floor behind Dad’s seat, and focused on staying still and breathing lightly. I prayed the crumpled blanket didn’t attract Dad’s attention.

  Moments later Dad climbed behind the wheel, turned on the radio, and off we went. He hadn’t noticed me. Score!

  We drove for about fifteen minutes, accompanied by a Beatles marathon. (Could my dad be more lame?) I could tell when we reached the mall because Dad started muttering about the traffic and all the holiday shoppers. It sounded like he circled a bit before he finally found a spot and headed in. I waited a few seconds after he left the car to throw off the blanket and peek out the window. He’d parked by the movie theater. That would mean my coat might come from Abercrombie & Fitch. Or Ann Taylor. Did they sell coats? Or…please, please, please…maybe Mom bought me a coat from CUSP. It’s the coolest store ever.

  I nibbled on a PowerBar while I kept my eyes peeled on the mall entrance. Finally, about ten minutes later, Dad came out with a bag from…oh, my God! CUSP! My life couldn’t get any better. Any coat from CUSP would be totally fab. My friends would be so jealous!

  I curled up under the blanket again just before Dad got in the car and tossed the CUSP bag on the front passenger seat. Soon we were off again. I meant to pay attention to where we were going, but I kept thinking about ways I could peek at my coat. I couldn’t stand waiting nine more days.

  Maybe twenty minutes later, the car stopped again. Dad got out, and it sounded like he lifted the trunk lid, then slammed it shut. When he didn’t get back in the car, I slipped the blanket off my head, brushing my hair from my face. Jeez, it had gotten hot under there. I glanced out the window. We were in a townhouse complex with bare trees surrounding the parking lot. Dad was heading for an end unit, carrying some wrapped gifts.

  What kind of errand was this?

  I noticed the CUSP bag still on the front passenger seat and shifted toward it while I kept my eyes on Dad. He reached the door, pulled out a key, and let himself in.

  What the…

  The coat could wait. I shot out of the car, dashed to the house’s front window, and on tippy toes peered inside. A woman with long blond hair was putting most of Dad’s gifts under a stubby Christmas tree with white lights. And there was Dad, hugging some kid with curly brown hair.

  The kid seemed a few years younger than me and kind of looked familiar. Dad handed him one of the gifts, he tore it open, and smiled. I sucked in my breath when he did, because I knew that smile. Dad’s smile. The kid hugged him again, and even though I couldn’t read lips very well, the kid’s next words clearly were, “Thanks, Daddy.”

  A brother?

  I had a brother?

  I spun away from the window and rubbed my hand over my face. Dad wasn’t a spy. He was a bigamist. Or an adulterer. Or something else awful. I’d always wanted a brother or sister
but not like this. I’d have to tell Mom. I sagged against the building. Wait. Mom must already know. She knows how Dad leaves every Saturday. That’s what they argued about last night.

  I slid down against the side of the house. The aluminum siding’s coldness seeped straight through my jacket, into my bones. This couldn’t be happening. I live in Winnetka. In a nice house. With my parents. Both of them. We’re a normal family. No problems. And Christmas is coming. I’m going to get great gifts. Like every year. No way Dad is leading a double life. No way he has another kid. I’m his kid. His only kid. I must have made a mistake.

  I scrambled up, went to the door, and knocked before I lost my nerve. The blond woman opened the door a moment later and gasped. Then Dad gasped, too.

  “Who’s that girl, Daddy?” the kid asked.

  Wow. I wasn’t the only one who’d been lied to.

  “Cara!” Dad rushed to the door. “What are you doing here?”

  I was breathing heavily. “I wanted to see my coat and find out where you went all the time, so I hid in the back seat. I wanted to be in on the big secret. Please tell me this is all a joke, Dad. Right? You’re his Big Brother or something like that? Right? We learned about that in school. That’s a really nice thing to do. Or you’re here doing community service. Dental house calls? Is that it? There’s got to be an explanation.”

  I was talking too fast. Maybe if I kept talking, I’d come up with a good reason why this was happening.

  Dad grabbed my arms. “Cara, calm down.” He shook me a little until I focused on him. “You weren’t supposed to find out this way. Your mother and I decided to wait until you were older. Until you could handle it.”

  “Handle what?” It took all my strength not to cry. “What’s going on?”

  Eyes darting between me and the kid, Dad appeared on the verge of tears, too. He pulled me toward the couch set against the wall, then waved the kid over to us. His hair was the same shade of brown as Dad’s. And mine.

  Chin quivering, Dad focused on me. “Cara, this is your brother, Michael.” He turned to the kid. “Michael…you have a big sister. Her name is Cara.”

  The kid looked as freaked out as I felt.

  “What?” The kid whipped his head back and forth between Dad and the blond lady. “Mommy, what’s Daddy mean? A sister? I don’t get it.”

  Snooping can be dangerous business. Mom’s voice echoed in my head.

  The blond woman came over and held out her hand. “Michael, let’s go to your room so I can explain some things.” Her voice shook a little.

  The kid turned and stared at me for a minute, then took her hand. As they headed down a hallway, I noticed a bunch of pictures on the wall, including one of Dad and the kid. Swallowing hard, I turned my attention to the faded blue and yellow flower print on the couch until Dad lifted my chin with his finger.

  “Your mom and I had some problems when you were little. And I made some mistakes. Jocelyn,” he nodded toward the bedroom, “used to be my dental hygienist.” Dad sighed. “I guess you’re old enough to hear this now.…Well, we had an affair.” He scrunched his eyes closed for a second and shook his head. “It didn’t last very long. I realized how much I love your mom and broke it off, but by then Michael was on the way.”

  I didn’t want to know about this. I kept thinking about my new coat and boots. If I kept thinking about them, surely this would all go away.

  “It took a long time for your mom to forgive me,” Dad continued. “And she’s been very supportive all these years, letting me come here every Saturday to spend time with your brother. He’s a great kid. You’re going to love him.”

  Love him? I didn’t even know him.

  Lots of my friends’ parents were divorced, but I’d never worried about that. I thought Mom and Dad were happy. But how happy could they be with this big secret in their lives? It must be so hard on Mom knowing Dad spends every Saturday with this other family. With this woman that he… I shook my head. I couldn’t go there. How could Dad have this other life all these years and I never knew? How could he have done this to Mom? To us?

  And Mom. My God. How could she have accepted this? How could she have forgiven him?

  How could I?

  “You’re growing up, Cara,” Dad said. “You’re fourteen now. It’s time you learned life isn’t always nice and tidy. But we can make this work.” He paused. “How I’m going to explain this to your mother is another story.”

  I stared at him, my eyes watering. What would I tell Kim? I’d have to make something up. She couldn’t know. No one could know. It’s one thing for parents to divorce, marry other people, and then have more kids. But to have an affair and a child like this. And to hide it for years. Everyone would talk about me if they knew. All the kids would laugh or point or whisper.

  “Please, honey. It’s nearly Christmas. If you could try to accept your brother, it would be the best present in the world to me.”

  My heart said no, but I felt my head nodding yes. Dad hugged me.

  “Thank you, Cara. This is going to work out. You’ll see. No more secrets. Finally, I’ll be able to spend time with you and Michael together as a family.”

  Great, family togetherness with a stranger.

  I laid my head on Dad’s shoulder and felt the first tears slide from my eyes as I tried to make sense of it all. Unbelievable that just a half hour before, a new suede coat and boots had me on top of the world.

  Bonnie Kingman didn’t know what she was talking about. Mom was right, there’s no such thing as a victimless crime.

  What a crock.

 

  “Truth and Consequences” first appeared in Mystery Times Ten, published by Buddhapuss Ink in 2011. This story was nominated for the 2011 Agatha Award and the 2012 Anthony and Macavity awards.

  As a child, I loved sneaking around my house, pretending to be a spy, taking photos, and trying to overhear dastardly plots (or at least scare my mother). There never were any plots, but I did make Mom jump quite a few times. It was that fun experience (yes, I have a sadistic side) that inspired this story. I’d like to give thanks to my niece Kelsey Goffman, who helped me with the suburban Chicago shopping details.

  VOLUNTEER OF THE YEAR

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the Buckaroo Ball is pleased to honor this year’s volunteer of the year, Gaylene Banks.”

  As the applause began, I took a deep breath and made my way to the microphone. The hot stage lights burned so brightly I couldn’t see anyone in the audience. But I knew my husband, Gavin, sat at the honorees’ table front and center, likely nursing his second gin and tonic. Heck, maybe his third.

  My heart began beating erratically as I started to speak. I didn’t know if it was anxiety or my cardiac arrhythmia acting up.

  Calm down, Gaylene. It’s only nerves. Everything’s going to work out just fine.

  I inhaled deeply once again, soon got into a rhythm, and the speech flew by. Mother would have been proud if she’d lived to see this day. I was poised and elegant. Not a hair on my silver head slipped from its place. My white pearl necklace and button earrings added the perfect touch to my stylish black dress. Granted I’d dressed up more than nearly all the other women, who favored casual, southwestern attire. But all eyes were on me, not them.

  Like a good Buckaroo, I hit all the right notes in my speech. The importance of working in the community. Of protecting children. Of giving back. I touted the Buckaroo Ball. How it’s the biggest annual charity event in New Mexico. I thanked everyone in the audience who had given their time and money to help the Buckaroo Ball Committee aid the at-risk children of Santa Fe County. And I gave a nod to my husband, who had supported me all these years, enabling me to volunteer full time—and then some—to help abused children, long before the Buckaroo Ball Committee came into existence.

  I’d debated whether to mention Gavin in my speech. I’d worked so hard to keep him apart from my volunteer life. But in the end I realized I couldn’t avoid it, not without raising eyebrows
. And that just wouldn’t do.

  An hour later, Gavin twirled me around the dance floor. He was larger than life, his black Stetson casting a shadow over his twinkling blue eyes. He smelled a bit like his favorite horse, as usual, no matter how much he showered.

  “Congratulations, Gaylene,” Bitsy Allen called as she two-stepped nearby. “They couldn’t have picked a better person to honor. And it’s wonderful to finally meet your husband. He’s a doll.”

  “Why thank you, pretty lady.” Gavin tipped his hat. “Perhaps later this evening, you’d give me the honor of a dance.”

  “You got it, sugar,” Bitsy said.

  Yes, everybody always loved Gavin. He knew how to turn on the charm.

  It was Gavin who spurred me to get involved in children’s causes forty-five years ago. At the time, we’d been married just a couple years. I’d come home a day early from visiting Mother and Daddy in Dallas. Gavin surely was surprised to see me. He hustled little Tommy Greenley out of our den, pretending everything was normal, calling after Tommy to keep working on his batting swing. Tommy looked scared. Wouldn’t meet my eyes. Gavin had been coaching Tommy’s Little League team, but that wasn’t baseball going on in the den.

  I left Gavin that night, but I couldn’t make it stick. In the 1960s, you didn’t talk about things like that. And you didn’t leave your husband. So I moved back home a few days later, after Gavin promised to quit coaching. To quit having anything to do with kids. To focus all his time on the ranch. I moved into the spare bedroom, began volunteering with children’s causes to make myself feel better, and settled into a quiet, celibate existence.

  That was probably my mistake, I realize now. Gavin needed some release. And I’d denied him.

  “Gaylene, honey, where’s your mind?” Gavin drew me closer than I ever let him in private. “You haven’t heard a word I said.”

  I smiled up at him, shrugged my shoulders. He’d been my dream come true when we met in 1961. I was an eighteen-year-old freshman at Southern Methodist University, ready for my happily ever after. A husband, a home, a family. Gavin was in his senior year. A football star. We had a six-month, whirlwind courtship before we wed. I dropped out of school, we moved to a house outside Santa Fe, and Gavin began working on his family’s cattle ranch.

 

‹ Prev