The Lost & Found by Katrina Leno Page B

said.
    â€œOh, Frances.” Grandma Doris put her knitting down. She took a deep breath and rubbed at her temples. “Do you really want to know?”
    â€œYeah, I really want to know.”
    â€œI didn’t want you to grow up worried.”
    â€œWorried?”
    â€œYour father was a nutball,” she said. “Don’t tell your grandfather I said that, but he was a certifiable nutball. After he got out of jail, he tried to get custody—”
    â€œI know all that.”
    â€œAnd he was laughed at. The judge laughed.
You don’t get to stab your daughter with a fountain pen and then file for custody
, the judge said. Your mother got a restraining order, and we never heard from him again. And good riddance.”
    â€œI don’t know what that has to do with anything,” I said.
    â€œI didn’t want you to grow up thinking you’d go crazy too. With your father being who he is, and your mother in a special hospital . . .”
    â€œOh,” I said. “You know, it hadn’t occurred to me until just now.”
    â€œWell, good. That was the whole point.”
    â€œI read all her letters.”
    Grandma rubbed her right hand with her left. “And what did you think?” she asked.
    â€œShe says my father isn’t my father.”
    She nodded slowly, like she knew already, and I realized she had read them all even though she said she had given up after a while. I wondered if my mother had written letters to her too, or if that was reserved for me. “Wallace Green,”Grandma said after a minute. “I always liked him.”
    â€œBut you don’t think . . .”
    â€œThat he’s your real father? Oh, honey. I don’t think so.”
    I sat down on the armchair. “You’re probably right.”
    â€œI’m sorry we lied to you, Frannie. And I’m sorry we kept those letters from you. I hope you know we did it because we love you more than anything.”
    â€œI don’t forgive you.”
    â€œWell, I guess I can live with that for a little while.”
    â€œYou know she told me she wanted me to find him, right?”
    â€œI know,” she said sadly.
    â€œAnd you don’t think I should?”
    â€œI don’t think it would help anything.”
    I went back upstairs.
    I felt divided. Half of me wanted to believe my mother, to prove her right, because it would show that she wasn’t completely gone. It would prove that there was a part of her that was still sane, still able to reach me.
    But the other half of me wanted to forget everything she’d told me about Wallace Green. No good could come of it. There was no way he was my father, and that road could only lead to more pain. My mother was dead, and she believed something that wasn’t real.
    I sat down on my bed.
    The letters had not reappeared.
    I was always losing things.
    But no, it wasn’t me.
    Things kept leaving.
    Things disappeared.

EIGHT
Louis
    W illa ate the tater tots in the parking lot of the doctor’s office. It was time to go inside, but she was stalling. I didn’t think I’d ever seen my sister nervous before and so I couldn’t be sure that was what this was. But she ate each tater tot so slowly and she looked at each one so deeply, like it might contain the answers to all the questions of the universe, including the most pressing one of how to stall for time before going into a doctor’s appointment.
    â€œWilla?” I said finally.
    She looked at me like she’d forgotten I was there. “What?”
    â€œAre you nervous?”
    â€œWhat would I be nervous about?” she said quickly. She looked into the bag, but I guess she’d finished the tater tots because she crumpled it up and threw it on the floor of my car.
    â€œUh, your legs?” I said.
    â€œI don’t have any legs,” she said, flashing me a wry smile and opening the door.
    It was hard for her to get out of cars.