She lies down on the bed and her face goes blank and we know she has the deep-russian so I rub her back and tell her I’m not sad.
When it rains, Phil sweeps the water from the yellow floor in the kitchen because it seeps in from the back porch beneath the door. There’s a drainpipe with a hole that splashes water like a faucet that gets into the house and makes a little lake on the kitchen floor. It’s nice to be in a house though. He even turns the garage at the end of the long driveway into a playroom for Darla and me. It’s got a concrete floor and high wooden shelves where he puts the toys.
Darla and I play in there all day. There’s a big rug from Goodwill on the floor so it isn’t so cold even though we have to wear sweaters when the chill comes.
Mom says everyone in Synanon went crazy. They think we belong to them. They think we are their kids, not hers. Darla and I have to stay in the garage because Mom says they might try to find us and take us back. I guess it’s safer in there but it gets old just sitting on the concrete all day. I know she’s scared for us. I think the men who spoke to Phil scared her too.
Some days we can hear the ice cream truck on the street, the slam of screen doors and the kids from next door pedaling their bikes trying to chase after it. We hear them playing freeze tag or hopscotch or drawing pictures on the sidewalk with chalk. We listen to them talk, trying to remember which is which. They’re lucky since they get to go outside. “That’s Sarah. She’s the tall one with the curly hair and freckles. She lives in the green house with the flower bushes out front. I think she got a new bike.”
“Na-ah. That’s Molly. Sarah’s her sister with the brown hair.”
Tony never plays with us. He’s either drawing his monsters or looking at baseball cards or reading the stack of Mad magazines from the Salvation Army. “I need a new Mike Schmidt. The corner is bent on this one.” Mom is gone during the day because she has to work on her Vestigation into the people Synanon is trying to hurt. She interviews people who were beaten up or yelled at or scared and puts it all into a book that she’s going to give to the government. Phil is home sometimes but he is busy trying to stop the nuclear plant called Diablo Canyon because nuclear plants kill people.
Tony says Mom doesn’t care what happens to us, that she took us from Synanon because she didn’t like Dad. She tries to hug him at night but he crosses his arms and turns away. He tells me stories about Dad carrying a sawed-off shotgun for ten years inside his trench coat, how when he was in prison everyone was afraid of him because he has a black belt in karate and a loud voice when he’s mad. “Dad was in charge of a lot of people in Synanon and that’s why Mom doesn’t like him,” he says. “Even Chuck listens to Dad because everyone knows he was the toughest guy there.” I try to picture Dad but there’s only the blurry image of the jeans and the moto-cycle, the face in the gold frame.
“Dad was in prison for years but it didn’t bother him because he knew how to take it. He and Uncle Pete would fight anybody and it didn’t matter how many there were.” I don’t know if the stories Tony tells me are true or not but I wish he didn’t know more about Dad than me. He talks like he lived with him every day even though I would see him sitting alone on the playground in Synanon. He would jump up off the ground with a great big smile when Dad came to visit us. “You’ll see, Dad’s going to take us out of here. You won’t need to worry about nothing because everyone’s afraid of Dad.” That sounds good because we’re tired of being in the garage all day hiding from the bad men.
Sometimes Tony goes out onto the street even though he’s not supposed to. He doesn’t care. Mom gets tired of fighting him so she lets him since he screams, “I hate you!” and she gets the look that goes on forever.
Tony is down the street and I am playing on the front porch and Mom is drinking coffee in the dining room under the yellow chandelier with her friend who has yellow teeth like Mom and big curly brown hair. Darla is gone with her mom and even though Tony gets to play on the street, I still have to stay on the front porch.
Phil pulls into the driveway in his orange van. He gets out and when he reaches in for the groceries, I see two men walk up behind him. The men have something on their faces, something like masks the color of skin that push their noses flat against their faces. Even in the masks you can tell they both have shaved heads which means they’re from Synanon.
They’re holding skinny black clubs that look like little baseball bats. One carries his low in his hand and the other taps his softly on the ground as they walk up behind Phil. At first I think maybe they’re playing a joke on him because I’ve heard people play dress up on Halloween even though we never did it in Synanon. Why else would they have those masks over their faces? Why else would they hide behind the orange camper van where Phil can’t see them?
Phil looks up at me and smiles when he gets out. Before I can say anything, one of the men runs up behind and hits him over the head. Phil falls onto the ground. It’s weird how he falls, like a stack of Lincoln Logs that’s been tipped over. His body folds into a weird shape with his legs sticking out under him.
I jump back and look around the doorway to see if anyone else saw it. I don’t know if I’m supposed to scream or run or yell but I don’t want the men to see me. The second man hits Phil’s legs, which seem to bounce around like rubber. One of his gray sneakers flies off. Phil puts his head between his arms with his face down and starts to scream.
His voice echoes into the street. It’s so quiet and all I can hear is “Heeeeeeelp! Heeeeeeelp!”
The men are saying something. I can’t make the words out but you can tell they’re angry. I close my eyes hard and hear the clubs hit Phil’s body between the screams. It sounds like something hitting meat. When I open my eyes and look around the column on the porch, Phil is looking straight at me from between his arms.
He looks sad, almost like he’s saying sorry. There’s blood on his forehead and a weird bend in his legs and I want to tell him there’s nothing for him to be sorry about.
I think as long as I stay still, I am invisible. I can disappear. How do I make myself smaller? Can I flap my ears and fly now? Will they see me?
Some of the kids from the block are watching from across the street. I see Tony standing there with them in a red sweatshirt from Goodwill. I wonder why nobody does anything. Phil goes quiet and one of the men puts his club on his shoulder and looks at them. “Do any of you know where Tony and Mikel are?” The words come out muffled through the mask which pushes his nose down in a funny way.
I see Tony freeze as the kids look from face to face, shaking their heads slowly, some staring at the men, some staring at the ground. I wonder if Tony can become invisible too. I close my eyes and try to give him the power. Don’t breathe. Don’t do anything.
“Anyone?!”
Nobody says a word. They probably don’t know our names.
Mrs. Morris comes running out to her porch, her brown hair big and wild. She tells the men she called the cops so they better leave. The men look around like they have all day then slowly turn to walk up the block. Mom and her friend run out to the porch. Soon an ambulance comes and takes Phil away while we all watch. He looks so skinny and helpless when they put him in the back.