Pamela Bauer - Two Much Alike

“Are we going to go there?” Alex asked as soon as she’d hung up the phone.

Frannie wanted to again say, “It’s not him,” but she stifled the words. “I’m going to call Lois and see what she thinks.”

Alex groaned. “Do you have to?”

“Yes.” Frannie dialed her sister’s number. As soon as she heard the voice-mail recording, she remembered that her sister was out of town for the weekend. “I forgot. She’s in Chicago and won’t be home until Tuesday.”

“What does that mean? That we have to wait for her to get back before we can do anything?” he asked, obviously hoping that the answer to his question wasn’t yes.

“There’s no point in driving all the way to the North Shore without first investigating whether the possibility exists that it is your father,” Frannie answered patiently. “If—and I say if—there’s a chance it is your father, then it’s up to the authorities to investigate, not us.”

“You mean we’re not going to go?”

Frannie tried not to let the devastation on his face tug on her emotions. It wasn’t easy.

“I’m sorry, but that’s my final word on the subject. We wait until we talk to Auntie Lois before we do anything,” she said firmly.

“Do what?” Emma asked as she entered the kitchen, backpack slung over her shoulder.

“It’s none of your business,” Alex said, stomping out of the room.

“What’s wrong with him? Aren’t we going to the arts festival?” Emma asked.

“Yes, we’re going. Just give me a few minutes,” Frannie replied. “Watch Luke for me, will you?”

Frannie found Alex in his room, lying on his stomach on his bed, his elbows supporting him as he played a video game.

“I know you’re disappointed, Alex, but you don’t need to take it out on Emma.” Her words were met with silence. “Get your stuff together and we’ll go to the arts festival at the park.”

“I don’t want to go,” he grumbled.

Frannie put her hands on her hips. “You wanted to earlier this morning.”

“I changed my mind.”

Frannie could see the stubborn set to his shoulders. If there was one thing she knew about Alex, it was that when he made up his mind about something, he didn’t change it. “Alex, I can’t leave you home alone.”

He sat up then and said, “I’m ten, not two. I’ll keep the door locked and won’t let anybody in. Satisfied?”

She wasn’t. She knew that some parents did leave their kids home alone for short periods of time, but she wasn’t one of them. She didn’t doubt that Alex would be fine on his own for a couple of hours, yet she wasn’t ready to set a precedent. If she left him today, then he’d want to stay home alone the next time she had to go somewhere that was of no interest to him.

“Come on, Mom. I’m almost eleven,” he pleaded. “I’m responsible. Didn’t I prove that to you that time you had the flu and I had to take care of Luke because you couldn’t get out of bed?”

“But I was still in the house.”

“You couldn’t even lift your head off the pillow,” he reminded her. “I did a good job taking care of everything. Even you said so. Please, let me try it just once,” he pleaded. “I won’t answer the door, and if the phone rings I won’t say you’re not here. I’ll say you can’t come to the phone, like I’m supposed to do.”

Frannie could feel her resolve weakening. She knew Alex wouldn’t enjoy the arts festival as much as Emma and Luke would. And then there was that look of devastation on his face when she’d told him they weren’t going to go looking for his father. It tugged at her heart in a way that made her fall back on emotion rather than logic.

“Please, Mom?” he begged. “Don’t make me go with you.”

The park was just at the end of the block, and if Alex did have a problem he could call on any one of the neighbors. Finally Frannie caved in. “All right, you can stay home.”

It was a decision that left her feeling uneasy, however, as she wandered later through the various exhibits. It was also the reason why, despite Luke and Emma’s groans of protest, she packed up their things as soon as they’d finished lunch.

A feeling of relief washed over her as she returned home and saw that the house looked exactly as it had when they’d left. The front door was still shut, the drapes closed, the yard empty of kids. Using her key, she let herself in and called out, “Alex, we’re home.”

When there was no answer, she repeated the call. Then Emma handed her a piece of paper. “I found this on the kitchen table.”

Frannie read the note written in her son’s handwriting: “Mom, I’m going to look for Dad. I’m taking the bus. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Alex.”

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