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5
BRANDY
Edmonds, Washington – 1993
When I was little,Aunt Ruthie gave me a photo album containing pictures of my mother. I spent hours poring over the pages, wondering what she was like. Aunt Ruthie told me my mother loved sewing and playing with dolls when she was my age, but I wanted to know more. Did she like reading as much as Aunt Ruthie and I did? Did she like making up stories and drawing pictures?
While Aunt Ruthie was always willing to answer my questions, I could tell that talking about my mother made her sad. So I tried not to ask too many questions and instead searched for answers in the photo album.
When I was nine, Uncle Sal handed me an end-of-the-school-year card from my father who was in prison down in Texas. My father sent me a hand-drawn card at the end of every school year, along with cards for my birthday and Christmas. I saved them in a shoebox I kept in my closet.
Once a year, Uncle Sal, Aunt Ruthie, and I flew down to Texas so I could visit my father in prison. Seeing him was always a little uncomfortable, but Uncle Sal made the trip fun by taking me swimming at the hotel and letting me get dessert for both lunch and dinner. Aunt Ruthie always took me to a big used-book store and let me buy as many books as I wanted.
Sitting on the barstool at the kitchen counter, I opened my card.
Dear Brandy,
Happy Last Day of School! I hope you have a wonderful celebration with lots of pizza and candy. Besides coming to see me and celebrating your tenth birthday, what are your plans for the summer?
Today, I saw a little song sparrow outside my window. I asked him if he would fly up to Washington and sing an “end of the school year” song for you. So if you see a little song sparrow today, tell him hello and thank you.
I love you so much, Brandy. I can’t wait to see you this summer. Send me a picture or letter when you can.
Love, Dad
As I closed the card,a thought occurred to me. “Uncle Sal?”
My uncle looked up from the sink where he’d been scrubbing the pan we used for eggs that morning. “Yeah?”
“My dad is in jail because he did something bad, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, what exactly did he do? And when is he going to get out?”
“Oh, well...”
Aunt Ruthie came into the kitchen then. Uncle Sal cleared his throat. “Brandy wants to know about her father.”
“What about him?” Aunt Ruthie sounded upset, making me immediately regret my question.
“She wants to know why he’s in jail and when he’s getting out.”
My aunt sucked in a sharp breath. For a minute, she didn’t say anything. Then she straightened the pile of papers next to the phone and gave Uncle Sal a nod. “Go ahead. You can tell her.”
Uncle Sal rinsed the pan and set it on the counter to dry. Then he turned his attention on me. “This may be hard for you to hear, Brandy, but your father is in jail because he was the one who shot your mom.”
“What?” Suddenly I felt hot all over. “That’s who killed her? My dad?”
Uncle Sal nodded. “Yes. I’m afraid so.”
I glanced at Aunt Ruthie who stared at an old permission slip as if it was the most important thing in the world.
“I know this is upsetting,” Uncle Sal said. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but if you have questions—”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t even want to think about it. How could my dad have done something so evil? And why did he do it? Why, why, why would he do something like that?
I must’ve asked the why part out loud because once again Uncle Sal glanced at Aunt Ruthie for reassurance. When she didn’t say anything or even look at him, he continued. “Your father was jealous of a relationship your mother had with another man. He found a note your mother wrote and that made him extremely angry.”
