Daddo works at his desk and I sit on the couch and work on putting the puzzle together. There’s no door for the den and across the foyer is the entrance to the dining room. I try not to ke ep looking up, but every time I hear a creak I do. Well, I wasn’t aware of that at all, Daddo says into his phone. Probably woulda helped me to know that. The puzzle is hard. I like that Daddo believes I can do it. I like the books in his office too. I like adult books. I can’t read all the words but I like looking at them anyway. Pages in any book are pretty, I think. I told Daddo that once and he picked up a book and opened it and looked at a page for a while and then said, I don’t know if I see it, but I like that you do. This damn Himalaya account, Daddo says. He’s off the phone now. What’s wrong with it? I ask. It’s just a lot of work. Work is fun, I say. Yeah, well... It beats doing nothing. Daddo laughs a little. Did I teach you that? he asks. I shrug. Well, that’s a good philosophy, he says. Still, some projects take more out of you than others. Yeah. Like when Mr. Brown has us give our speeches in class. You don’t like giving speeches? I get scared. O, don’t be that way. I can’t help it. But trust me, Daddo says. You wanna get over that right now. You don’t wanna have stage fright your whole life. If there’s one thing I could teach my younger self... It would be to not have stage fright? Totally. Why? Because it comes up a lot in life. Think about it: I’ve been on the phone for an hour this morning. It’s like I’m giving speeches. You know? Right now Mommy is probably giving a speech, kind of. Hell, even when you call the insurance company you give a little speech. I don’t call the insurance company.
No literal jokes. But they’re funny. Maybe. A little. But really... next time Mr. Brown asks you to give a speech? Give a wild one. Get up on your desk and shout it. Whatever you gotta do to get over that stage fright now, do it. I think about that. Mommy would tell me not to get up on my desk. But I know what Daddo means. I’m jealous of the kids who aren’t afraid. Who don’t have a reason to be afraid. I won’t be afraid of speeches anymore, I say. Daddo holds up a hand because someone is calling his phone. The ceiling creaks. I pretend to put the puzzle together, but I’m not paying attention anymore. The ceiling is creaking. Not right now, I say. I shouldn’t have said that out loud. I don’t want Daddo asking me about Other Mommy. But Daddo’s talking on the phone and didn’t hear me anyway. I look up. She used to come only at night. Then sometimes during the day. The first time I saw her in the daylight I hid. I think she’s getting closer. Even though she’s already in the house. Even though she sits next to me on my bed. Closer. That’s the word I think of. She used to just stand in the closet and stare at me. Then she came out. Then she started talking. Then she started asking. Not now, I say again. I see an eye up there, like there’s a hole in the ceiling shaped just like an eye. Maybe it’s a whole face. Daddo gets off the phone. What’s up? he asks. Nothing. He looks to the ceiling. You look freaked out, he says. Was it because of all that stage-fright talk? I nod. Yeah, well, sorry, he says. That’s the problem with stuff like that. The more you talk about it, the more it freaks you out. But don’t let it. Daddo makes a funny sound as he breathes out just as the ceiling creaks and he didn’t hear it and I don’t look up. Wanna watch a movie when I’m done? Daddo asks. Should we wait for Mommy to come home?
O, I don’t know when that will be. Mommy used to be home all the time. We used to watch movies and eat together all three of us all the time. What movie? I ask. Well, that’s up to you. Hey, what are you and me? I smile. We’re best friends, I say. Totally, he says. He snaps his fingers like I got the answer right. Then his phone rings again and he holds up his hand for quiet. I look up. Other Mommy is looking back down at me. I get up and hurry out of the den while Daddo talks. I don’t want him seeing her. I take the stairs and I hear creaking up there and I know Other Mommy has gotten up off the floor, bringing her face up from the carpet. I hurry. I’m gonna tell her to leave Daddo alone. She used to just stay in the closet. Now she sometimes leaves my room. I hear the mattress creak before I get there. I see her before I enter. She’s sitting on the edge of my bed. She’s facing the other way. I don’t like to see her like this. Because I can see the backs of her arms and there is dark hair on the backs of her arms. I hurry in, but I don’t say what I wanted to say. I’m too afraid to say it. I don’t tell her not to show herself to Daddo. I don’t tell her not to ask him what she always asks me. But I don’t have time to ask anyway. Because she asks me first, Bela, can I go into your heart? No, I say. Please? she says. Let me in? No, I say. She looks upset. In school we were told not to let people other than our parents touch us. Is going inside my heart the same as touching? Friends give and take, she says. I don’t know what Other Mommy will do if I say yes. No! I say. She makes that face and I run from my bedroom. I don’t look back. I run down the stairs and back into the den and Daddo is standing up at his desk, setting down his phone, and he says, You pick a movie yet? Yeah! I say.
Which one? And why are you breathing so hard? You just change an alternator? I’ll show you, I say. Hurry up! I wanna watch a movie right now! I run out of the den and up the hall toward the living room. Okay, okay! he shouts. I’ve never met someone so eager before. Don’t ever lose that!