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2.
San Diego Today—In the Grantville neighborhood, Jimmy Mendez was pedalling happily along the sidewalk when he heard his mom's excited voice over the hedges: "Your dad is home!"
"Oh, yay! Let's go pick him up."
"Put your bike away, quick, Jimmy." Already, Mom stood with her purse in one hand and the keys to the old green Dodge in the other. Jimmy sailed around the corner, up the driveway, and into the garage. He had a way of dismounting by swinging his right leg over the seat so that he stood on the left pedal with the right leg wrapped around the back of the left leg, and this way he coasted into the garage and let the bike fly so that it drove in by itself, standing up, and came gently to rest still upright between two piles of plastic bags containing wood chips for the yard. Dad had bought the chips two years ago and never quite finished the back yard project. He'd promised to build Jimmy a swing, but then he'd been called out to sea on his Merchant Marine contract. By now, Jimmy had given up on ever having a swing set in the yard.
"That's odd," Mom said to herself as she headed down Waring Road to Interstate 8 and headed west toward the sea.
"What's odd?" Jimmy asked. With his softball glove on one hand, he casually tossed his ball into the glove over and over.
"I'm supposed to pick him up in National City."
"In Mexico?" he asked hopefully. It was where some of Jimmy's ancestors came from on his dad's side. On his mother's side they were Anglos who'd come from Oklahoma during the Great Depression. His mom had told him these things, and he'd also learned them in school.
"No, in National City, halfway down there."
"Dang." He'd hoped for a trip into Mexico for fun and to pick Dad up. "So what's odd?"
"Well, son, he usually has me pick him up at the dock where the ship pulls in. I'm sure there is some explanation, like someone owed him money or he owed some money and had to pay it. I hope he wasn't playing poker and losing his shirt."
Jimmy tossed his softball gently and watched absently as Mom took the high freeway ramps out of Mission Valley to head south on Interstate 15. Traffic was heavy but moving fast, and palm trees breezed by on either side of the road in hazy sunshine.
In about ten minutes they entered National City and took an exit ramp. High up, a passenger jet worked its way across the Palm Avenue freeway ramp for a landing at Lindbergh Field. The jet's twin tail engines left a white vapor contrail glistening in the blue sky. Lots of moisture in the air today.
They pulled up at a house surrounded by blue jacaranda trees in full bloom. Mom blared the horn, and a door opened. Out came a man who looked like dad.
Mom seemed excited and waved. "Hi honey!" she called out in a high, singsong voice. "Welcome home!"
The man noticed her. He looked in her direction as he came toward the car with his sea bag, but he didn't wave or smile. His eyes seemed to somehow not really recognize her.
Jimmy sat up and stopped tossing the ball. That man wasn't dad at all. He looked like dad, but something was wrong. A lot of things were wrong. The shape of his head, the way his eyes didn't focus on the same things dad's would have, the way he walked, the way he carried his heavy sea bag over the wrong shoulder. Worst of all, if it were dad, dad would be smiling and waving and calling Jimmy's name. This man just came toward them at a slow walk, looking more worried or something; busy; like he had someplace to go.
"Honey, move to the back seat," Mom said.
"Why?" Jimmy said. He was going to say "That ain't dad," but Mom seemed too excited to let him talk.
The man who looked like dad didn't seem to care. He got into the back seat as if he were climbing into a taxi in some big city and didn't care to learn the driver's name.
"Aren't you going to kiss me?" Mom said.
"I'll kiss you later," he said. Jimmy thought he smelled something dry and earthy. "Let's go home. I'm tired."
"Okay, honey," Mom said. She pulled away from the curb, hiding her obvious disappointment. "So you're tired, huh? Probably hungry too, huh?"
"I ate on the ship."
"Really." Mom looked in the rear view mirror and saw Jimmy staring at her. Her fake smile disappeared, and her eyes looked worried now, just like Jimmy felt inside.
That smell—it reminded Jimmy of the garden shed. It had taken him a few seconds to place it. It was the smell of earth, whether in the basement or the garden shed. "Daddy, have you been digging in a garden someplace?"
The man looked at him, and Jimmy realized this man did not recognize him at all. It broke his heart, though he hoped there was some mistake. Kids have instincts adults do not have. Jimmy knew deep down there was no mistake. Something indescribably horrible had happened. Was going on. Was just the beginning. Jimmy was too scared to even cry. What he saw in those lifeless eyes—a kind of reptile hate—made his knees knock together and he nearly wet his pants.
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