Chapter 3

"Mom, is Dad home?"

The words were out almost before I saw Myra. I needed to know. I needed it settled.

"He is, he is! Come in, come in."

Then her eyes moved past me to Irvin, and they welled up. She rushed forward and threw her arms around him.

"Irvin! I thought I'd never see you again."

"My good boy. These years have been so hard on you."

His eyes reddened in the same instant, and he held her tight.

"Mom, I missed you and Dad so much."

He steadied her, then his gaze settled on me.

"Let's go inside quickly. If Manny doesn't get to see Dad, she'll only fret about it."

So he knew. He knew everything.

My chest went tight as I met those smiling eyes.

He knew I suspected him, knew how badly I wanted to confirm Dad was alive so I could confirm who he really was.

I clenched my jaw until I tasted the sweet, metallic tang of blood.

The television droned on in the living room, and under it I could just make out James and Irvin chatting easily.

"Manny, what's wrong?"

Myra was still smiling, still lost in the joy of the family whole again. I made myself say it, low.

"Mom, I don't think this man is the real Irvin."

She stopped, staring at me warily.

"What are you talking about? How could he not be Irvin?"

"After he came back, I tested him with the safe-word we agreed on. He couldn't answer it. And he eats scallions now."

She waved it off. "It's one little code word. Maybe he just forgot. Three years is a long time. It's perfectly normal for someone's tastes to change."

"He went through so much to save us. Can you please stop being so paranoid?"

My heart sank. She didn't want to look any closer, and I understood why in a breath.

The waiting had ground her down. Three years with no word from Irvin, every day lived in dread.

More than once she'd called me in pieces, saying she'd dreamed of him lying on the ground, covered in blood.

She'd already lost her husband, she said. She couldn't lose her son too.

Myra carried a dish out. Through the clear glass door I saw the three of them inside, warm and easy together.

That "person" sitting in Irvin's place, smiling, soaking up James and Myra's care and love.

I drew a breath and stepped out of the room.

Just then Irvin lifted his head and asked me,

"Manny, I hear you suspect I'm not Irvin?"

That one short sentence hit me like the ceiling coming down.

I looked at Myra, whose eyes slid away, and it landed at once: she had told him exactly what we'd just said.

For that moment my heart pounded so hard it hurt.

"You never used to eat scallions."

I lowered my eyes to hide what was in them. He gave a little smile.

"It's been three years, and the missions were brutal. Forget scallions. At my hungriest, my worst, I even thought about slicing off my own flesh to boil and eat."

"How could I afford to be picky after that?"

So he still didn't know about the safe-word.

Myra's face crumpled with pity. She lifted a piece of meat with her chopsticks and set it on his plate.

"It's all our fault. If it weren't for us, you'd never have suffered like that."

"Manny, stop being so paranoid. If it weren't for our boy, you'd still be lying half-dead in a hospital bed!"

She fixed her eyes on me and spaced out every word.

"He's finally home, and you say something like this."

"Don't tell me your heart's changed and you're saying all this so you can be rid of him?!"

"Mom!"

I stared at her, unable to believe it. Beside her, James chimed in too.

"This is just post-traumatic stress in Manny, that's why she's imagining things. Son, since you're back, spend more time with her."

Before I could say anything more, "Irvin" gripped my hand tight.

He looked at me, all pitiful.

"Manny, I've just had a hard time adjusting, coming back to the modern world so suddenly after all that time in the past."

His fingers traced lightly across my palm, and in that instant my skin crawled.

I forced down the nausea rising in my throat and asked, "Just adjusting? And that changed your tastes?"

He smiled and nodded.

So he still didn't know about the code word between the real Irvin and me.

Seeing that I didn't press it further,

James and Myra both relaxed at once, and the room came alive again.

This time he even openly ate the things he'd never liked, and the elder Blacks only watched him with the same doting eyes.

They fussed over him, asking after his every comfort, as if trying to make up for three years of missing love.

I stole a careful glance at the man, and I didn't miss the smugness and contempt in his eyes.

That night I turned over and over, unable to sleep.

Then I heard the door ease open, soft.

The next second the blanket beside me pressed down under someone's weight, a man's hot body sliding against mine, his hand burrowing under the covers.

"Manny, I've missed you so much."