The Case of the Killer Divorce (2 page)

Chapter 4

"Why
are you so mean?" We were driving to
Try My Thai
in my Mini Cooper and Duke wouldn't answer a single one of my questions.

"Why
are you so impatient?" he countered. "We'll be there in about ten seconds. Man, I hope they have 'Jumping Shrimp' and then I hope those suckers jump right into my mouth! I see you laughing over there, you think I'm funny."

"
As long as you amuse yourself, that's all that matters," I said, parking the car. "Let's go, Mr. Hilarious."

The food came out
soon after we ordered and we dug right in. "Start talking, Duke," I said. "Or
you're
buying
me
lunch."

D
uke inhaled deeply. "This stuff smells as great as it tastes, and it's damn spicy too! Good choice."  He gave me a wicked smile in between scarfing down his food.

I could see he was planning to drag this out.

"Did you notice the décor?" I asked. "How all the pictures on the wall are made from silk ties--isn't that fun?"

"Sure is. You going to eat that spring roll?"

I shook my head and handed it to him. "Which tie is your favorite, Duke?"

He looked around, "I don't know, maybe that orange one, it looks like a bad acid trip," he said, laughing. "Why are you askin'?"

"
Because that's the tie I'm going to strangle you with if you don't tell me something soon.
"

Duke started laughing so hard, I thought he was going to choke on his food. "You should see your face, Jamie, no…wait, here we go..."

Before I knew what he was doing, Duke had taken my picture with his phone. He showed it to me and I started laughing, too. He fiddled with the phone for a minute, and then he said, "There--now every time you call me, that picture's going to pop up. I can't wait!"

I wiped my eyes
; laughing and spicy foods always get to me. "Listen buddy, if you start choking again, I'm not saving you."

"Then you'll never know what I was going to tell you
…"

"True enough," I said,
calmly finishing off my Vegetable Panang.

"Okay," he said, "That was fun, but I'm done torturing you. First
off, I have to say, you didn't give me much to go on. I mean, you said your Dad's name was Bill Frank, and that's not even his real name."

"What??"

"Hang on, Jamie, I'm gettin' there. I started with the easy stuff. He's not listed on your birth certificate and he's not registered to vote in any state, he's got no driver's license in Florida, and there's no marriage license either-- since your parents weren't married…"

"So, what did you do next?" I was hanging on Du
ke's every word, and he knew it.

"I remembered you said your mom
met him at a political protest in Miami, and that they were both arrested. It took me a long time to figure it out, but I finally matched an arrest record. Your dad's real name is
Guillermo Franco
and he's not even an American citizen, he's Cuban"

"
Wow, Duke! You're amazing! Where is he now? What's he doing? Where's he been all this time? Oh my God, I don't even know where to start…" I was crying again, this time for real.

Duke was shaking his head warily,
flustered by my tears. "I'm sorry, Darlin', I don't know any of that yet. I'm still working on it. But I do have something to show you." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me.

As I unfolded it, I realized what it was. A man with wavy black hair and olive skin was posing for the camera. I had a weird sensation, like I was like looking into my own eyes. I finally had a picture of my father.

Chapter 5

It
was surreal to be holding a photo of my father after I'd spent so many years imagining him. This is going to sound dumb but, when I was little, I used to look for him everywhere--in crowds, on TV, in school. He might've been anyone, and it was up to me to find him. It was a game I used to play: if I recognized him, then he would stay. Of course, I never did find him, and it made me feel incomplete somehow, unfinished, like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. Nobody could understand how I felt, not even my friends whose parents were divorced because they at least had two parents. Now the game was over and it turned out my father was the same person he'd always been, an ordinary guy who didn't want to be my dad. I mean, why hadn't he made an effort to find
me
in the last thirty-three years? It's not like I was hiding, I'd been living in Hollywood since the day I was born…

"
Aren't you going to say something?" Duke asked. "I can't believe what I'm seeing--Jamie the lawyer's at a loss for words!"

I couldn't help it;
I burst into tears and escaped to the bathroom, leaving Duke at the table with his mouth hanging open. As I stood over the sink crying my eyes out, part of me was still rational enough to wonder what I'd hoped to accomplish by looking for my dad. I'd pretended it was simply a mystery to solve, a way to satisfy my lifelong curiosity, but that wasn't true. I'd been searching because I needed to know who I was and where I came from. The problem was with that little girl. She was still playing the game, still trying to find her dad, even if he broke her heart in the end.

"
You okay in there?" Duke was standing outside the bathroom door. Poor guy, he'd done so much for me and I'd totally freaked out on him.

"
Sorry if I upset you," he went on. "You know, being half-Cuban's not so bad--I think Cuban girls are hot!"

T
hat made me laugh. Leave it to Duke to get it all wrong. He only knew one way of looking at things, that was for sure. I washed my face and blew my nose before opening the door.

"I forgot to tell you that spicy food makes me cry," I said,
trying to keep a straight face.

"Well, that seems like a pretty important piece of information, Jamie. If that's how it's going to be, then, damn it, I'm picking the restaurant next time." Duke gave me
a wink. Maybe he didn't have it wrong after all.

It had been a very eventful day--and it was only half over. I paid the bill and we headed back to my office.

Chapter 6

I spent the afternoon at my desk returning calls and drafting pleadings, but my mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with the riddle of my father. Duke offered to keep digging around, but I asked him to hold off for a while. After my embarrassing meltdown at lunch, maybe I wasn't ready to hear it. Or maybe the best thing to do was to plow through and resolve this nagging problem for good. I couldn't think straight anymore. I spent so much time giving advice to my clients and helping them make decisions that I was
too burnt out to deal with my own stuff. What I needed was some perspective, some distance, and possibly some psychoanalysis, but, most of all, I needed a good laugh. What I needed was my friend, Grace. The best way to chat with Grace during the day was by text. She worked in Fort Lauderdale for a big securities firm that kept her busy, but she could usually answer a text.

Hola Amiga! Guess what I found out today? BTW, I just gave you a clue…

Hmmm…you like to eat at Chipotle? You're dying for a Frozen Margarita?

Not even close, Grace…

Give me another clue.

I'm thinking of taking salsa & merengue lessons because it's in my "blood."

You're auditioning for "
Dancing with the Stars?" I got it--you're a Cuban vampire!

You're half-right…

You're a vampire?? Wow, Jamie!!

This isn't 'Twilight'
, Grace. No, I found out my dad is Cuban.

You're kidding! A Cuban named Bill Frank?

A/K/A Guillermo Franco

Awesome! What else did you find out?

Nada. Not sure if I want to know more.

Don't be a chicken! Of course you do! Isn't there someone your mom was close
to back then?

How do I know? I wasn't born yet.
Lol

Think, James! Even I can think of someone...

I'm totally clueless.

What
about her sister?? You know, your Aunt Peg?

Peg's never mentioned my father.

I bet you never asked.

Nope, never have.

Do it! Then we can go out for Cuban food and celebrate your heritage.

Alright, I guess…

Hasta la vista baby

Yeah yeah

It couldn't hurt to talk to Peg; I owed her a phone call anyway. After my mom died a year ago, we didn't see much of each other because we were both grieving in our own way. But when her son, Adam, was accused of murder, that brought us back together pretty quick. Now, I tried to have dinner with them at least once a month so we could catch up.

I decided to pack it up early and go home. It had been a tough day and I could feel a headache blooming behind my eyes. I popped two aspirin and speed-dialed my aunt on my cell. I could walk and talk without tripping most of the time. After we chatted about how Adam was doing at Broward College and how much Aunt Peg loved her new class of second-graders, she asked what was new with me. It made me catch my
breath, how much she sounded like my mom. I was afraid I might start crying again, but I choked it down.

"Is everyth
ing okay?" she asked, concerned.

"I'm fine, no worries. Can I ask you something, Aunt Peg?"

"Of course, Jamie."

"Well, um, I was wondering…do you know anything about my father?"

There was a long moment of silence, so long that I thought we'd been disconnected.

"Yes, she finally answered, "And I have something for you that I've been holding for quite a while."

"Now I'm curious, what is it?"

"If you come over, I'll show you."

Chapter 7

I
don't remember driving to my aunt's house. For all I know, the car drove itself there. On the way, I kept wondering why I'd never asked Aunt Peg about my father considering that she and my mother had been so close. My mom had always been protective of her younger sister, especially later, when Peg's divorce left her completely devastated, and caring for an autistic son on her own. I'm sure Peg also helped my mom through some rough times, but I was too young to remember. I suppose when you know someone your whole life, it never occurs to you to ask them questions about their past. It would feel weird, like you were interviewing them for a magazine, or like you were just being nosy. Mostly, you assume you already know everything about them. But, as I'm learning, everyone has their secrets.

A
unt Peg greeted me at the door with a hug and invited me into her cozy living room where we sat down together on the overstuffed sofa.

"Jamie, I made a promise to your mom and I've kept it
, although it was difficult. She wanted you to know who your father is, but not until you were ready."

"That's ridiculous! So, you were never going to tell me anything unless I asked?"

She looked down at her hands folded in her lap and didn't say anything.

I jumped up and started pacing.
"What am I, a child? I'm thirty-three years old, Aunt Peg! I think I can handle whatever it is. What's the story? Is he a drug dealer? A war criminal? I mean--what the hell?"

I
sat down again. "I'm sorry, it's not your fault and I shouldn't take it out on you."

My aunt gave me a little smile. "It's
alright, Jamie. I would've done the same--or worse. But I'm glad I can finally give you this. It's a letter from your mom."

I was not expecting that. It had been hard enough to
listen to my mom's voice on my answering machine after she died; how could I possibly read a letter from her? I carefully unfolded the letter and made myself read slowly, fighting the urge to race through it and devour every word. Seeing her beautiful handwriting tore me up almost as much as her words did.

May
8, 2012

My dearest Jamie,

It feels so strange to be writing you a letter when you're right here, sleeping in the next room. I just realized that I've never written to you before and I'm sorry that this will be my first and last letter to you; it's like a sappy movie on the Lifetime channel.

W
e've always been able to talk to each other about anything, with one exception, and that's my fault. Jamie, I can't tell you how sorry I am that I never told you about your father. I still can't bring myself to do it in person--even now that time is running out. It's selfish of me, I know, but I never wanted to hurt you, and I still don't.

When you were little, y
ou used to ask about your father constantly. It was painful for me, to have to lie to you. Eventually, you stopped asking, and that caused me pain, too, but for a different reason. I always planned to talk to you about him, but it never seemed like the right time. I'm sure your mind is racing now, imagining all kinds of things, so let me put you at ease, your father is a good man and I regret every day that he can't be a part of your life.

His name is Guillermo Franco, but he
used to go by Bill Frank. We met in 1978 at a political rally in Miami that my friend Carmen convinced me to go to. Carmen is Cuban and still had family over there. She was very passionate about their cause. Things were bad for Cubans, both at home and in the U.S., where they had fled to take refuge from Castro's regime. That was the year Cuban exiles In New York bombed the Cuban Mission to the United Nations. It was a tense time.

The minute I got t
o the rally, I wanted to leave. It was total chaos and it didn't help that I couldn't speak Spanish. When I lost Carmen in the crowd, I panicked. I was getting pushed and shoved from every direction until someone stepped in and started pushing people away from me. I turned around and found myself looking into the kindest eyes I'd ever seen. He was only twenty, like me, but he seemed so sure of himself. He told me to stay close, that he'd keep me safe, and I believed him. Bill was a stranger, but I trusted him immediately.  Even when the police came and we were arrested, he was still looking out for me.

After w
e were released the next day, Bill and I started spending a lot of time together. Our relationship was all the more intense because of the political upheaval and Bill's involvement in the Cuban cause. We were together for a year and we were incredibly happy. But then, on June 11, 1979, everything fell apart. Several Cubans tried to force their way into the Venezuelan Embassy and the police opened fire. One person was wounded and the others were arrested, including Bill. They deported him and I never saw him again. A month later, I found out I was pregnant with you.

All these years, I kept hoping to hear from him, but I never did. I can only assume he's dead or in prison. So, you see, that's not a nice story to tell
a little girl about her daddy. I couldn't even invent a happy ending, so I kept it to myself.

Bill was (is?) a wonderful person and you would've loved him, as he would've loved you. I know that you always wished you had a dad and I'm sorry I couldn't give you yours.
I see a lot of him in you: his kindness, his sense of humor and his ability to relate to all kinds of people. And he liked to read science fiction, just like you do.  

I hope you can forgive me, Jamie. I wish things could've been different, but that's
how it goes. You are the most important person in my life and I'm so grateful to have you for a daughter. I think you already know that.

All my love,

Mom