#ilene

Day 6: Mask

When Ilene’s sister called to tell her that Tom was dead, she didn’t gasp, or cry, or ask her sister to repeat herself. Instead, she had to ask, “Who told you?”

“The newspaper,” Clare answered.

“How did he die?”

“Natural causes.”

After everything Tom had done, natural causes seemed too simple. “He was only fifty-one.”

“You’ve been keeping count?”

“Honestly, Clare, you should know not to joke about him.”

“I’m not joking,” Clare assured her. “I’m just saying, I’m surprised you kept count.”

Ilene closed her eyes, as if it would bring her any peace. “I have to tell Randy.”

“Is he home?”

“Yes, but he’s leaving soon. For a friend’s house.”

“You should tell him when he gets home later. Don’t send him off with bad news.”

“I'm not even sure if it will be bad news for him.” Normally, hearing that your father was dead would be some of the worst news you’d ever receive. But Randy had never met Tom; he barely knew a thing about Tom. Ilene had made sure of that. And Randy never expressed much curiosity about his father, except to ask a few basic questions, which Ilene always answered succinctly: He’s older than me. He lives down south. You look a little bit like him, I guess.

“Nonsense,” Clare chastised. “A father is a father, whether you know him or not. This could really hurt Randy if you’re not careful, Ilene.”

“You’re right,” Ilene relented. “I’ll tell him when he gets home. I’ll wait up for him.”

“I wish I could be there to help you,” Clare soothed.

“Thanks. I’ll think of something. He’ll be okay.”

“Are you okay? I know this must be...complicated for you.”

“I’ve spent so much time trying to forget about Tom that I can’t answer that yet.”

By the time Ilene hung up the phone, she still had no clue how to tell her son. How could she possibly bring it up? Remember your father that we never talk about? Well, he died. And his family doesn’t know about you so you can’t go to the funeral, sorry. 

She didn’t miss Tom. After the way he treated her, it would take a miracle to make her miss him. But she still felt strange knowing that he was really gone. She had always wondered if he thought about Randy. As years passed, she had hoped deep down that he’d reach out and ask to talk to his only child. Maybe he’d regret turning them away all those years later and want to make up for lost time.

But Tom died a coward. And for Randy’s sake, that made Ilene’s heart ache.

She was still standing by the phone when Randy brushed past her, stopping at the shoe rack. “I’m going to Johnny’s,” he said without looking at her. “We’re going to watch TV.”

“We have a TV here,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

“Johnny’s TV is bigger.” He was tying his shoelaces when he finally glanced up at her. Randy looked more than a little bit like his father: if he gained a few pounds of muscle and grew out his facial hair, he’d be the spitting image. Why does this all have to be so complicated? she thought to herself. Why couldn’t this family just be normal? 

“I don’t know when I’ll be home,” he added.

“Please be home before late,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Why?”

“Because I said so, Randy.”

“Mom, I’m —”

“Eighteen, which makes you an adult, I know.” She had to fight to keep her voice calm. “But please come home before late tonight. Please.”

“Is something wrong?”

What could she say? He looked so young right now, crouched down, looking up at her like he used to when he was a little boy. She couldn’t lie to him.

“We’ll talk about it when you get home,” she finally said.

“Am I in trouble?” “No, honey, you’re not in trouble.” She wanted to push him out the door so she could stop faking that everything was okay. Her mask was slipping more by the second.

“Okay,” he replied, unconvinced. He stood up, his six-foot-three towering over her five-even, and he didn’t seem so little anymore. He’s a man now; he can handle this.

“I love you,” she said, wrapping her small, insufficient arms around him, as if she could keep him safe with love alone.

“Love you, too.” He and his mother weren’t exactly huggers, and Ilene could sense his wariness, but he let her hold on for a moment before stepping back. “See you later.”

“Not too late,” she reminded him.

“I’ll do my best,” he sighed, already halfway out the door. Ilene watched from the window as he ran to the nearest bus stop, knowing that he wouldn’t be so carefree tomorrow.