by G. P. Ching
* * * * *
“So what did he say to you?” Malini asked once they were safely nestled into their regular booth at McNaulty’s.
“He wanted me to come with him. He said he wanted to, I don’t know, introduce me to someone or something. It was really weird.”
“What do you think he was trying to do?”
“It’s obvious. He wanted to get back at me for that day at Westcott’s. I’m sure a bunch of his friends were waiting somewhere to beat me senseless.”
Malini took a deep breath, puffing up her cheeks before allowing the air to escape her lips.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jacob said. “School is almost over and I’m sure Dane will find something better to do than to torment us over the summer.”
“I hope you’re right.”
With school winding down for the year, Jacob was looking forward to being free of Dane’s clutches. As a bonus, Katrina would be graduating. She’d been accepted at the University of Illinois. It would be a relief to not have her around next year. Of course, he hoped not to be there either. If all went well with Dr. Silva, he’d be back home on Oahu in a few weeks.
“What are you doing this weekend?” Malini asked.
“I have to work.” He didn’t attempt to hide the disappointment in his voice.
“That’s right, you’re still working for your neighbor to pay off the window.”
“Yep. I have a feeling it’s going to take a while.”
“Is it hard work?”
“If you consider shoveling compost for five hours hard work.”
“Ugh. Sounds awful. Is that woman nice to you?”
“Dr. Silva? She’s all right, I guess,” he said. There was no way he was going to try to explain his relationship with Dr. Silva.
“Hmm, because she gives me the creeps.”
“You’ve met her?”
“Just once, with my dad. She came into his office to file the claim on her window. My dad started acting strange, like he couldn’t do enough for her. She just kept staring him down. Have you noticed how she rarely blinks? How she almost always wears black? And, her house gives new meaning to the term Goth.”
“Did you talk with her?” he asked.
“No. I wasn’t feeling well, so I excused myself. It didn’t stop me from hearing their conversation though. It was embarrassing the way my dad tripped over himself to help her. She was just, I don’t know, odd.”
“Yeah, you should see her cat. Creepy big and she doesn’t go anywhere without it.”
“Wow, so I was right. She’s totally whacked.”
“As far as I can tell.”
The sound of the door opening behind him interrupted their conversation. Uncle John entered and walked up to their booth.
“Jacob, I’m done at the store. It’s time to go,” he said. “Hello, Malini.”
“Hi, Mr. Laudner.”
“Do you need a ride home?”
“No, sir, I’m meeting my dad at his office.”
“Okay then.”
“See you later,” Jacob said, sliding from the booth to follow John out the door and across the pebble parking lot to Big Blue.
“How was your day?” John asked as he started the engine and pulled out onto Main Street.
“Fine,” Jacob answered toward the window.
“Seems like you’re spending a lot of time with Malini. She a nice girl?”
“Yep.”
They sat in silence for a while, as John made the turn onto Rural Route One. Jacob stared out the window and hoped John wouldn’t try to talk with him again. Without warning, the truck veered onto the shoulder and came to a rough stop.
Surprised, Jacob turned toward John. The man stared over the steering wheel, eyes blank. His foot rested on the brake.
“John?” he prodded.
“Jacob, do you know why I brought you here, to Paris?” he said to the windshield.
Jacob didn’t answer. He didn’t know.
“Do you think a person is only as good as the worst thing they’ve ever done?” John turned to face him as he said it, shifting the car into park.
Jacob thought about what his uncle said. Memories of all the things he’d done wrong in his life came rushing back: memories of his father and mother punishing him for getting into a fight at school, staying out past dark, and the time he tried unsuccessfully to steal candy from the grocery store. He remembered his parents explaining to him, loving him through his mistakes. He thought of the day with Katrina’s dolls, how angry he’d been. Then he thought about his mother and the fight they’d had in the apartment. If he believed she was only as good as the worst thing she’d ever done, he’d have given up on her long ago.
“No, I think people make mistakes and learn from them. I think most people get better after the worst thing they’ve done—if they want to.”
“Well, what happened with your dad was the worst thing I’ve ever done.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin and looked at the floor of the car. “I brought you here because I lost touch with your father before he died. You look so much like him, you know. Sure your coloring’s a little different but your eyes, the way you hold your head … What I’m trying to say, Jacob, is that I brought you here because I want to know you. I want to know who you are.”
“Why?” Jacob snapped. “I’m never going to be what you want me to be. I’m not like you or the people here. This isn’t home to me.”
“That may be true and you may only be here for the next three years and then be off to fame and fortune, to never speak to a Laudner again. But aren’t you curious, Jacob? Doesn’t even some part of you want to know who your father was? I lived with your father for eighteen years, you know. We were close for a long time. Don’t you want to know what he was like?”
Jacob couldn’t look away from John’s eyes. For the first time, he saw in John what John had seen in him. John was Charlie’s brother. They shared the same chin, the same pale green eyes, and more importantly the same history. He had to admit, what John said was starting to make sense.
“Jacob, this thing that you are doing. This, I talk to you and you do everything in your power not to talk back thing, it’s not getting it done.”
“I talk to you!”
“Only if you want something or if I ask you a direct question. Never because you want to. Nothing about this relationship is going to help either one of us keep the spirit of your father alive. If that’s how you want it, then continue this attitude. But if you want something more—if you want to actually be part of your father’s family, be here, really be here with us. I, for one, would love to have you.”
John turned back to the steering wheel, threw the car into drive, and re-entered the road. The only sound in the car was the familiar roll of the wheels on imperfect concrete and pebbles clinking against the rusty trucks exterior. Mile after mile rolled by with John’s words tumbling inside Jacob’s head.
It wasn’t until John turned into the driveway that Jacob decided.
“Okay,” he whispered. “I’d really like to know more about my dad and his family.”
That evening, Jacob spent hours going through Laudner family albums with John. He told John stories of the last years of his dad’s life and John told him about the early years. By midnight, both of them knew each other better and started to piece together the life of the man who was both Charlie Laudner and Charles Lau.
Together, they picked out a picture from the back of one of the albums, his father in his army uniform, and hung it in the upstairs hallway. It had been a long time since Charlie’s photograph had hung beside his brothers and sisters. The image looked at home there, now.
Jacob lay under the pink comforter that night and stared into the darkness. Although he still wanted to find his mom and he still hated Paris, he wasn’t angry anymore. The last thought that entered his mind as he drifted off to sleep was the sensation that his dad was somehow watching over him. Somewhere, in the darkness, he was with him.