Page 66 of Beautiful Losers

‘Check this out,’ I say, handing him the photo.

He holds it up to the light and squints. ‘Is that …?’

‘Yep, Leonard.’

‘Playing bass for …’

‘Uh-huh, Bruce Springsteen.’

‘Wow. So that was actually true?’

‘Wait, what’s this?’ I say, spotting a metal star on a blue, white and red ribbon tucked behindThe Best of Van Morrison.

‘Jesus,’ Jack says, taking the object out of my hand. That’s a Silver Star. It’s one of the highest military awards in the US. It’s given to soldiers for exceptional bravery. Did Leonard ever mention he was in the army?’

‘He said he was in Iraq, but I took it with a silo of salt, like I did all Leonard’s stories.’

‘I guess we were wrong. What a guy! Leonard really lived, huh?’

Jack shakes his head in disbelief, laughing to himself as he returns to what we’re here to do – box up a life. I put the star back on the shelf, a wave of remorse washing over me. Did Leonard know we doubted him? I tell myself to keep it together, focus on what I need to do. I head into the bedroom and open the heavy damask curtains. A sliver of light enters through what I’m guessing was intended to be a window. I open the latch to air the space and look around for a bag for Leonard’s clothes. I spot a suitcase on top of the wardrobe and stand on my tiptoes to reach it. Lifting it down, I place it on the bed and start going through the chest of drawers, filling the case with harem pants and smock shirts. Bending down to empty the bottom drawer, I accidentally knock the case off the bed, its newly packed contents spilling out onto the floor. I crouch down on my knees and spy a manilla-coloured envelope sticking out from underneath the pile of clothes. It must have been in one of the bag’s interior pockets. I reach for the envelope and turn it over. It’s addressedto a Randall Zimmerman. Puzzled, I sit on the bed. I shouldn’t read it. I’ve never pried into anyone’s affairs, never pushed someone to confide information they weren’t ready to reveal. I value my own privacy too much. But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something inside this envelope I need to know. The seal is already broken. I pull out a sheet of folded paper and read.

Hey Randall,

I wanted to say thanks for the gift for Casey. She loves the rabbit and insists on bringing it to bed with her every night. It’s hard to believe she’s four already. We had a little party to celebrate in the back yard. Just family and close friends. Mom made her world-famous chocolate cake with raspberry frosting. You remember it? I insisted on it for all my birthdays.

Casey started preschool recently and I guess I’ve had a lot of time to think with the house being so quiet and all. I still don’t fully get why you left. I was ten – old enough to be owed some sort of explanation. But you didn’t say anything. You didn’t even try to help me understand. You just came into my room to kiss me goodbye and tell me you were sorry. I’ve asked Mom, so many times, why you walked out on us. She said she never really knew either, that you’d stopped confiding in her years before. But she’s never said a bad word against you, not once in all this time. I’ve thought badly of you. Plenty of times. I’ve been so mad. So jealous of all my friends, watching them with their perfect families at graduation, their dads giving them away on their wedding day. It felt like you took something from me, like I lost a part of myself that day.

Now that I’m a parent myself and a bit older, I’m not angry anymore. I get that life isn’t as straightforward as we’d like it to be. I guess what I’m saying is, I forgive you, Dad. And if you everdecide to come back home, you’ve got a place to stay and a grand-daughter who’d love to meet the man who voiced Theodore the chipmunk.

Take care,

Christina

PS: Here’s a photo of Casey. Mom thinks she looks like you.

My hand starts to shake as I try to take in what I’ve just read.

‘What do you want to do with all these LPs? Should we donate them to a vinyl store?’

Jack is standing in the doorway. He furrows his brow when he sees me.

‘What’s the matter?’ he says walking over to me and crouching at my feet.

‘Leonard’s real name was Randall,’ I say flatly, handing him the letter. ‘He walked out on his family.’

Jack stands up and reads the letter, frowning. When he finishes, he looks down at me.

‘Leonard was the voice of Theodore inAlvin and the Chipmunks?!’

He immediately registers my lack of amusement.

‘What I meant to say is, poor guy. That’s intense.’

‘Poor guy? Poor Leonard?’ I say incredulously.

He looks surprised at my reaction. ‘Well, yes. He obviously had a complicated past.’

‘Don’t you think he did a shitty thing?’ I say, standing up and brushing past him to get to the window. How did Leonard sleep in here? It’s like a prison.

---