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“So, he’s here. You saw him.” He wasn’t asking as much as he was affirming.
“I don’t know. I think so. I mean, I’ve been married to him for thirty-four years, I know his hands,” my mother said, her tone almost defensive.
“I believe you,” Dean said. “Hiding in plain sight, I mean. And then keeping a close eye on you after you guys had been exposed.”
“Yes, I think so, too.”
“You are all so matter of fact about all of this. It’s like you’re discussing traffic and not the fact that my father, who has been missing and a wanted criminal for more than ten years, is possibly living close by!” I screamed at them.
“Baby . . .” Dean started to say.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me!” I shouted. I felt like I couldn’t make sense of anything anyone is saying.
“Milly, stop this. This isn't about you. Sit down and stop shouting!” My mother admonished me.
And that was all it took. I felt ashamed for my outburst. She was right. I needed to calm down.
I sat down.
“What do we do?” I asked quietly.
“Nothing. Do you and your sisters still want to do that press conference?” Her knowing eyes looked at me.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
What would be the point? Was my father really in Syria. Was the FBI lying? We should ask to see whatever footage they claim to have at the very least. I needed to talk to my sisters and fill them in.
I posed these questions to them and Dean agreed.
“Call your sisters tomorrow. Let them know what you have learned and decide how to go from there. But I don’t think you should take what the FBI has told you at face value. Also, call from my office. Don’t use your phone. Maybe they have you guys under surveillance.”
My eyes widened, and I knew he was right. They always know when we have and haven’t been in communication.
* * *
* * *
I drift back to sleep. When I open my eyes again, I feel Dean’s absence from my bed keenly, and I sit up. My body feels like it needs a good long work out, and I have a horrible taste in my mouth.
I'm in the middle of brushing my teeth, with the shower running when I hear my bedroom door open. Dean walks into the bathroom and leans against the doorframe, arms crossed on his chest. He's a sight for sore eyes. He's dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. His feet are bare; even his feet are beautiful. I know what I must look like. So I'm shocked when the first thing out of his mouth is, “You look beautiful this morning, Red.”
He's looking at me like I'm holding the secrets to the universe in my hand. I finish brushing my teeth and wipe my mouth before I respond.
“Oh, you must be blind.”
I'm drying my hands when he comes up behind me. He wraps his arms around my waist and lays his chin on my shoulder. Meeting my eyes in the mirror, he says, “No, I have perfect vision.”
I can’t stop the smile that creeps across my face.
“I’m going to make a call. But if you need me, just shout,” he says as he starts toward the door.
“Wait. You’re going to work from here today? Does Cristal know?” I ask. We hadn’t talked about when or how to tell her about our relationship. So I had decided to keep things to myself.
“Yes, she knows. I told her I’m working from here because we need the day together,” he says nonchalantly and with a tinge of impatience in his voice.
“You told her?” I squawk. My shower forgotten. “We didn’t even talk about this.”
“Well, it was hard to talk to you about anything when you were asleep,” he snaps back, his posture suddenly rigid. “Are you ashamed to be dating me or something?” He narrows his eyes at me.
