Cut Read Free Page B

didn’t have Ken’s correct number programmed into his phone.
    “No, sir. This is the girl you called last night by accident.” Total silence. He was probably scared I was going to start ranting again. “Um, I wanted to say I was sorry. You didn’t deserve to be yelled at. It was an honest mistake, and I took a lot of personal frustration out on you.” It was a pretty truthful explanation. I felt the need to throw in some really wild lie to make up for my honesty, but he didn’t give me the chance.
    “Well, that’s awful nice of you. Not too many people would do that. Ken and I were in the Marines together years ago, and he’s been kinda under the weather lately. I try to keep in touch—make sure he’s still hangin’ in there.” The guy had a southern lilt to his voice that made the end of his words disappear. It was kind of charming.
    This was the perfect opportunity for me to lie. I could have told him my grandfather was in the Marines, too. Or that my father was sick and dying (I wished). The truth was my grandfather had been a con man at best and died when I was thirteen. My grandmother followed him to the grave shortly thereafter. She actually loved the son of a bitch and most people said she died of a broken heart. And, of course, my father was in perfect health.
    I don’t know what kept me from telling him any one of the innocuous white lies flying through my head. It wasn’t like I was ever going to meet the man. What would it matter? I told bigger lies to people I saw every day. Instead I heard myself saying, “I’m sorry to hear that. Have you gotten a hold of him yet?”
    “No, miss, I haven’t. I’m startin’ to get a little worried about him. Course, I’m not sure I’ve dialed his actual number more’n a couple of times.” There was a little chuckle. “I live up here in Kansas City, so I can’t really pop over and see him.”
    “Well, maybe I could check on him for you. It’s not like Springfield’s a real big town. It wouldn’t be hard.” What the hell? Where had that come from? Not lying to the man was one thing, but I never offered to do anything I didn’t want to. I wasn’t that nice—as my grandmother was kind enough to point out in her final days.
    About a week before she died, she was put in the hospital. Somehow, one evening, I ended up in the room alone with her. She took my hand and asked, “Who are you, Persephone? Why are you so mean and deceitful? You used to be such a sweet child.” My mouth hung open. I wanted to slap the shit out of her. “It was right after your sixth birthday. It was almost like you fell asleep one night, and a little monster woke up in your place.”
    Nice words from a grandmother, huh? I felt like telling her she was absolutely correct. Right after my sixth birthday was when my father “visited” my room for the first time. A different kid did wake up the next day—a kid that felt like telling her grandma to burn in hell.
    Instead, I kissed her cheek, walked out and never went back. She died three days later. I didn’t shed a single tear at the funeral.
    “No, no, no. He’s a tough old bird, and I’m sure he’s doin’ fine.” Whew, dodged a bullet on that one. “‘Sides, I don’t know that he’d answer the door to a stranger. Then again, the way things are goin’ everyone might be a stranger to him soon.” He laughed at his own joke, but it sounded hollow. He was worried about his friend and trying to make the best of the situation.
    “Okay, well, if you change your mind, I guess you have my number.”
    He chuckled again. “That I do, miss, that I do. Thanks again for callin’.”

    Since Maggie was tied up the rest of the day with her mother, I had to find ways to avoid my own maternal figure. Holing up in the piano room seemed like the most viable option. I rifled through sheet music trying to find something to fit my mood. One of the biggest problems with playing was when I couldn’t find the right song, I ended up