Clandestine

eleven

-diane-

A day later my father calls me again. It's early in the afternoon, before I have attempted to make my supper yet.

When I answer, he's nearly ecstatic, "One of my friends told me a little secret. He said that if you call a little earlier before there are long lines waiting for the phone, the guards sometimes let you have a few extra minutes."

"That's good. Maybe we could talk about what you did to get yourself in jail in the first place."

"I doubt that these phone calls are going to be going through untaped. In fact, I've had multiple people warn me that all the calls are recorded. We can discuss this when I get home. But I thought that Marca Quintana told you what I did? She did call you to tell you that I was in jail, right?"

"Yes, but I don't know if I believe her. She said that you admitted to doing some illegal things."

He laughs shortly, "So that's what she's calling it."

"I know what she's really calling it though."

"How did you find out?"

"Someone told me. One of your friends."

"Who?"

"I'll tell you when I get home." He doesn't know that I can hack into the Assembly's database. I doubt he'll be mad, probably more impressed. He might be a little angry that I didn't tell him sooner. I'm sure he would love to get his hands on all the records that the Assembly has taken on him and his friends.

He sighs, "I'm really sorry this has happened, sweetheart. I'll do my best to keep it from happening again."

"You and I both know it isn't your fault. I'm fine. As long as you're safe, I'm happy."

"When did you become my mother? I can take care of myself."

"I'm just glad you are making friends. Do you want me to pack you a lunch for tomorrow?"

"Ha ha ha. You are too funny." His voice cracks.

"It's strange. When you are on your business tips, I've never missed you this much. Why is this any different?"

"Because neither of us have any control. We are completely under the power of the Assembly's. I can't come home and you can't come visit me."

"When you come home, we'll have a lot to talk about. Mainly, how to keep you out of jail."

He says, "You wouldn't believe what I managed to do yesterday. I told everyone your theory about the bread, and everyone threw their bread away. Hilarious, isn't it? They all love hearing stories about you. They all loved your mother, you know."

"I know." My voice is soft. If only I had known my mother, so that I could have come to love her too. She died only a few months after I was born. The details around her death have always been hazy and I've always been to scared to ask my father about it. I'm afraid of what he will say. As long as I don't know anything about her, it's like she's not a real person and I don't have to feel the pain of missing her.

I only have the details that people have slipped to me at parties. They'll tell me how much I look like my mother, with my dark hair cut to my chin, my narrow shaped eyes, my thin frame. Then they all get this sad look in their eyes and murmur something about it being 'Such a shame" and "So sad to think about'. I just shift and nod and pretend I know what they are talking about.

The beep echoes from the phone, "Okay, darling, I think I'm going to have to hang up soon. I don't know if I'm going to get any of those extra minutes. The guards around here all look especially mean."

Someone yells at my father. He says, "No, no, sir. I was not talking to you. It was merely a generalization. I was just kidding. Just a joke. No need, sir, to..."

The phone crinkles and crashes. Someone must have taken the phone from my father.

I shout, "I love you." I don't know if he can hear me as the crinkling continues.

His voice fills my ear, "Love you too, more than anything."

And the phone goes silent.