Page 72 of The Lie Maker

I put my burger on the dash, got up on my knees, and peered into the back seat. On the floor were several license plates.

“I mix and match,” he said. “Can’t be too careful.” His eyes softened. “Still got the wallet I gave you?”

I nodded. But I didn’t have it on me. It was tucked under my socks in a chest of drawers.

“Look,” he said, “I’m sorry if I got your hopes up. I just wanted to see you. I think of you every day. I miss you. I’ve got a job. Not the greatest, but it’s okay. Working in a big hardware-type store. Wearing the little orange apron. They still keep an eye on me, you know, the government, but I gave them the slip today so I could see you. Long drive, but it was worth it, even if I only get to spend a moment—”

I grabbed my backpack, down by my feet, opened the door, and got out. I didn’t even bother to close it. Left the Nintendo 64 behind, too.

“Son!” my father cried out. “Come back!”

But his voice faded fast as I ran between the cars, my eyes so filled with tears I could barely see where I was going.

Other Times My Father Got in Touch

A visit from my father became an almost annual event. He’d always show up when I least expected it, and when he was least likely to be seen by anyone else but me.

When I was eleven, I was at one end of the mall, sitting in the food court eating a sundae while my mom was at the other end looking at shoes in JCPenney, by myself at a table for four, when a man sat down across from me.

“Hey, sport,” he said.

He was in what I would loosely describe as a disguise. A Red Sox cap pulled down low and an oversized pair of sunglasses.

Some ice cream dribbled onto my chin. I swiveled my head around, looking to see whether Mom was nearby.

“She’s busy,” Dad said. “Trying on shoes. If she’s like she used to be, she’ll be there for some time. Just wanted to talk to you for a minute. First thing, have the threats stopped? The phone calls, the notes on the windshield?”

“Mostly,” I said, stunned to see him sitting there.

He nodded slowly. “Good. I had a word with my handlers. And the other day, they got in touch to tell me about you.”

“Huh?”

“About you taking off. Your mom was so upset, she called the witsec people, who finally got to me and told me what happened. That you got on a train and went to Chicago. You can’t do crazy shit like that. You could get hurt. Jesus, you could get killed. And there’s all kinds of creeps out there. They see a young boy traveling alone, there’s no telling what could happen. Why did you do that?”

“I thought you might be there,” I said. “Because of the movie.”

“You think I’m going to hang out in a train station just because I like that scene in The Untouchables?”

I said nothing. It had made sense to me at the time.

“Okay, look, you have to promise me you won’t do that again.”

I swallowed some ice cream that had melted in my mouth. “Okay,” I said. Technically, I kept my word. I never went looking for him in Chicago again.

“Give me a hug before your mother shows up,” he said.

I got out of my seat, came around the table, and put my arms around him. He gave me a squeeze, and when we parted, I could see that his eyes were as teary as mine.

“Gotta go,” he said.

And he went.

He showed up again once when I was fifteen and walking to school one morning, and again at seventeen, when I was riding the bus and he sat down right next to me. By my mid-teens, I was always on the lookout, thinking he might appear at any time for no reason at all. After that first visit, I never again got it into my head that he was coming back. And I never told my mother about our meetings.

When I was twenty, sitting at the front of the church for my mother’s funeral, I happened to turn around in the pew in time to see my father standing by the back entrance.

I was sitting next to Earl and the members of my mother’s extended family who were still alive. Her parents had both died the year before, but there were a couple of cousins, and an uncle. And Mom had a fairly wide circle of friends that she’d accumulated in the years after she had married Earl and resettled in Malden. Friends and family from his side had attended, as well. The church was nearly half full, which I thought was not bad, considering.

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