cloth that was all dried up and puckered the way a washcloth washcloth shrinks up on the side of the tub Um that’s great Isn’t she beautiful Mom rocked her gently back and forth in the cradle of her palms I guess It belonged to a little girl hundreds of years ago just like you Stupid ugly shriveled doll I smiled showing every tooth in my mouth Cool She laughed reading my glued-on expression OK I know you’re too big for dolls I’m sorry She smiled right through the window at me Mom had the best laugh and smile in the world She looked even more beautiful in the jungle with her tangled hair and dirty shirt She was like a goddess a mythical woman both good and not so good because goddesses weren’t perfect That was one of their trademarks They were fearless and tough and always stood up for themselves But they also had one major flaw like jealousy or arrogance or selfishness That was their nature It wasn’t her fault she was in demand and traveled a lot That’s how goddesses were I smiled for real now The eye is made of a bead Mom said Her finger hovered over a tiny black dot on the scrunched up face
The ugly thing only had one eye yet Mom loved it That one stupid eye made it all the more valuable A tiny detail of seeing sewed onto the doll’s face It was a link The bead was kind of cool but I was so far away that I could barely see it through the glass window of the computer between us I touched the screen I traced my finger over the ugly face and wrinkled nose I tapped the beady eye Dumb doll I miss you I said suddenly But I didn’t want her to come home Instead I wanted to crawl through our window and join her in the tree house Sleep in a hammock Dig in the dirt Find a precious doll to cradle in our palms I miss you too baby How’s school Are you studying hard she asked again Yes Everything’s fine If I studied any harder my head would explode Good girl I can always count on you when I’m away I was just telling Sam how mature you are I’m a lucky mom to have you A layer of guilt settled over me This was her moment I’m glad you found the doll She jerked her head and the sound of cheering filtered into my room probably from the rest of the campsite She looked back at me a guilty shrug forming in her shoulders I should go Always something
I have to go too Dad’s making dinner I said Oh good That’s nice Your dad’s a great cook I always know you’ll be well fed she said Work hard I’m proud of you Proud of what I wondered I hadn’t done anything important important like find a precious artifact You too Congratulations She beamed and the screen went dark I was happy for Mom and her discovery That was what anthropologists lived for the puzzle pieces of old broken things and she had one in her own hands Some day that would be me on an expedition discovering a link but to where or what I could only dream
2 The Myth of My Dad There was a myth going around that dads couldn’t cook I could verify the blatant wrongness of this terrible stereotype stereotype Dad was a genius with meat loaf cheeseburgers and ribs Meat was a big theme with dads and dinner and mine was no exception But that was OK because I wasn’t about to go vegetarian anytime soon I was more T rex than brontosaurus brontosaurus I raced into the kitchen my socks sliding across the linoleum linoleum Tonight Dad had made all my favorites Spaghetti with meat sauce Caesar salad and garlic knots crowded the table I grabbed a roll and pulled it apart Somehow warm bread made everything even better Load up your plate I thought we could eat outside A great thing about Dad and dinner was that he didn’t make me sit at the table He was cool that way He was wearing a sauce-splattered T-shirt that read I Dig Mammoths His jeans were worn and so were his tennis shoes He liked to call himself a creature of comfort My parents had been divorced divorced since I was seven
