“Kennedy, did I wake you up?”
“Oh, hey, Mom. No, I was kind of waking up already.”
“How are you, honey?”
“Oh, you know…” Last night comes rushing back to my mind, and I groan. “I’m okay.”
“You sound tired. Is that boss of yours running you into the ground?”
“No, I just…” What excuse can I give for my mood? I can’t tell her the truth. “Yeah, maybe a little.”
“Your father can help you get a new job, you know. He still has influence.”
My father is a disgraced retired senator who was exposed last year for having a mistress and a secret family. He’s with my mom openly now. I’m one of his two illegitimate children. And though I still love him, I don’t want any favors from him. Twenty-two years as one of his dirty secrets left a bad taste in my mouth.
“I’m fine, Mom. Really.”
“You’re coming home for the Policemen’s Run, aren’t you? It’s next weekend.”
“Shit, I forgot.”
“Kennedy.” My mom’s tone is admonishing. “You haven’t missed one since Uncle Jeff died.”
“I know.”
I’m assigned to work the Loft every weekend. There’s no way I can get out of it. But I can’t tell her that. She thinks I’m a personal assistant to an executive.
“This is how we honor him.” Her voice breaks. “I really want you there.”
I feel a lump in my throat. “Mom, I’m sorry. I want to be there, but I can’t.”
“Why not? What’s more important than this?”
“It’s not about importance. It’s just that I have to work.”
“On a weekend?”
“Yes.”
She sighs into the phone. “Can’t you tell him about the run?”
“I wish I could, Mom, but…I can’t be there. I’ll send a donation in Uncle Jeff’s name.”
“I’ll let you go, then.”
The hurt in her voice is tearing at my heart. When she hangs up, I shake my head and walk back to my bedroom, tears blurring my vision.
Uncle Jeff was my mom’s only sibling. He was a police officer and more of a father figure to me than my own dad was. Since Dad had been splitting his time between his two families and was also a busy senator, he hadn’t been around much. Never on major holidays. And even when he was there, he was careful about not being seen out with us.
So it had been Uncle Jeff who took me to my father-daughter dance in junior high. He’d been my brother’s Cub Scout leader, had coached my softball team, and had made every Christmas a joyful occasion by arriving right after sunrise with a bag of presents and then spending all day putting together our new toys and playing with us.
But eight years ago, he pulled over a motorist for speeding, and as soon as he walked up to the open driver’s side window, he was shot and killed. The driver had cocaine in the car’s trunk with a street value of more than $100,000.
I close my bedroom door and take the silver-framed photo of Uncle Jeff and me from my dresser. I’d been a smiling ten-year-old when it was taken, thrilled with the fish I’d just caught on our annual summer camping trip. Uncle Jeff was beaming with pride.
It cuts me deep that I’ll miss the Policemen’s Run in my Maryland hometown that benefits the scholarship fund in my uncle’s name. That day is just for him every year.
If only I could tell my momwhyI’m missing it. That I’m not really working for a demanding executive, but for a black ops agency trying to stem the flow of illegal weapons and drugs.
