Because I fly down to New Orleans on a Monday in late August. To call that bad timing would be, as Mom later said, the understatement of the century. So eventually we come to an agreement: if the old lady lets me bring Bandy I'll agree to visit her for the last week of summer. Maybe it isn't cool to say this, but she's the best mom in the world and I'd never on purpose make her cry. I can hear her sobbing, which totally ruins everything because it wrecks me when she cries.
She also hates it when I say "totally no way." She's never hit me, not ever in my whole life, but that day we have a big yelling fight that ends with her slamming her bedroom door. "Totally no way," I say, folding my arms. At first I figure the old lady will visit us in New Hampshire and I'll have to be nice and everything, but it turns out she's too old to travel, and since Mom can't get time off from work she thinks I should go down there on my own. She sounds really lovely, and very old, of course, and more than anything in the world she wants to see you before. From what I can tell, she's all that's left, and she never even knew you existed until she picked up the phone this morning. "Raised him! She raised him!" Mom says, excited and talking fast. There's an old lady with a funny name that used to know my father."
So I tried this new website for connecting families and what do you know, it worked." Something besides photographs and me with my stories. You'll be thirteen on your next birthday and I thought you should know something about your father. "You already told me that stuff like a bunch of times," I say, dropping into a kitchen chair.
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