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12.
"Mom, that guy isn't dad."Jimmy Mendez was in the kitchen, arguing with his mother. "Jimmy, what has gotten into you?" his mom said. She knelt by his side, washing his face and hands with a warm washcloth. Behind her, the kitchen curtains blew in a pleasant spring breeze, belying the fear Jimmy felt. Everything wanted to seem so normal, from the apples smelling nice in a bowl like mom's love itself, to her dish soap drying under the rinse rack—but it wasn't. Nothing could be normal again, not while Dad was missing and this stranger was pretending to be Dad. "I'm telling you, mom, I've known Dad all my life. That guy looks like him on the outside, but he ain't dad on the inside."
"Hold still! How could you see inside of him?" mom said with gentle reproach, pushing a washcloth finger in one ear, then the other, while Jimmy squirmed. It felt like worms eating his brain when she did that, and he hated it when she twisted that luke-warm cloth inside his head. "Jimmy, I said hold still!"
"Mom, he looks at me like we're strangers. He hasn't kissed you or hugged me. Can't you tell?"
That got her. Mom paused, with a strange frown. "Well, that's true but I assume he's tired from his long trip. Maybe he isn't feeling well. It's not easy being a sailor."
"You go to the bedroom and smell him." Jimmy pointed down down the long dark hallway to the master bedroom, "He even smells weird."
Mom rose, sighing, and rinsed the muddy washcloth out in warm water. "Why don't you run along and play on your bike? I have to go to work soon, and daddy will take you to MacDonald's so you can get a toy when he wakes up?"
"Do you have to go to work?" Jimmy said, feeling a bit sick. He knew that if he got sick enough, she would take time off from work. Maybe he could will himself to get sick. The flu!
"Jimmy, what are you doing making that face?"
He expelled air and opened his eyes, sadly recognizing it wouldn't work. "Nothing."
"Practicing holding your breath?"
"Not really." Couldn't she get it?
"So you can be on the swim team?"
"I'm going to be a deep sea diver when I grow up."
"Oh, okay. Want something to eat before I go?"
She made him a bowl of chocolate ice cream with whipped cream and nuts. While he ate, sitting in the sunny little kitchen with its greenish décor, mom disappeared down the hallway.
"Well?" Jimmy said, licking his spoon as the brown ice cream melted and worked its way over his hand.
She came back from the bedroom, wrinkling her nose. She had changed into her loose, greenish nursing scrubs. "He does need a bath. Smells like stale fish or something. He's sleeping like a log, the poor guy." She threw her coat across her arm for later, picked up her purse and big jangling mess of keys, and kissed Jimmy on the forehead. "You let daddy sleep, and bring him some hot cocoa when he wakes up, okay?" She wet the washcloth and wiped his hand. "Try to stay clean for a little while, okay?" She kissed him again and darted out the door.
Jimmy sat in the silent kitchen as he heard the car start up. He frowned, hearing a sound coming from the bedroom at the end of the hallway. As mom backed her car out of the driveway, Jimmy ran to the front window to wave goodbye. He was always asleep by the time she got home from her evening shift at UCSD Medical Center. He sighed as he returned to his ice cream. Everything seemed to sunny and normal, and yet—he gazed long and hard down the hallway.
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