Free Identity Issues by Claudia Whitsitt Page B

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    We drove home around six. Not in the mood to cook, I resorted to macaroni and cheese, then whipped up a quick salad for myself. Nutrition for me, junk for the kids. Some days, it was the only way to manage. Homework time continued with relatively painless problems. I felt grateful. The kids looked happy, having had time outdoors and comfort food.
    Diane called about 8:30 p.m.
    "What’s up?" I asked.
    "I’m nervous about going to the Stitsill’s," she confessed.
    "Why? What are you worried about?"
    "I don’t know, but you know me. If I let my mind wander, everything I come up with produces a full–blown anxiety attack."
    I laughed. "You’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Just go and do your thing with Joey. Nothing will happen. Look at it as an opportunity."
    "An opportunity for what, to get myself killed?"
    "Relax. It’s a chance to scope out the house. Be an observer. Get Joey started on his work, then sit back and take in your surroundings. Check for signs of his dad. You know, check for family photos. See if he’s in any of them." I thought fast. "Maybe they know he’s alive, and they’re covering for him. On the other hand, he could be visiting after they’re asleep without them even knowing. You can be a spy," I told her.
    Finally, Di laughed. She couldn’t help herself. "Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll just go in and case the joint."
    "Exactly."
    "Did you tell Jon about seeing Stitsill yet?" she asked.
    "No. I haven’t talked to him since he left. Besides, I can’t tell him over the phone. He’s in Korea this week, home for two days, and then out to L.A. for four. He can’t catch his breath as it is."
    "I totally understand." Di let that one ride. "Hey, did I tell you I’m going out with Maria’s brother again?"
    "That’s great! What’s his name?" I asked.
    "Chris."
    "You guys really hit it off when you went for coffee. Do you think there’s something there?"
    "You’re going to think I’m weird, but yes. I felt it right away. We talked on the phone over the weekend. In fact, we yakked for three hours. You know, the getting–to–know–you chitchat. It was fun. My stomach had butterflies the whole time. He’s great looking and an amazing listener."
    "The most unlikely of combinations. You sure he’s a guy?" I laughed before asking, "When are you going out?"
    "Dinner. Saturday night."
    "Does he look like Maria?" I was going out on a limb here.
    "Yes and no. You can certainly see the resemblance. But he’s much cuter." Diane giggled.
    "That’s good news!"
    "He’s dreamy. Tall and broad. Looks like a linebacker, but with a great face. Some of those football guys look like they’ve had their faces pushed in. Chris, on the other hand, is one of those good–looking, cares about clothes and appearance kind of guys. He smells good, spends time on himself, but in a good way, if you know what I mean."
    "He’s a metro sexual who meets your high standards," I supplied. Di scared me sometimes.
    "Exactly. Anyway, I think there are possibilities with this one. I’m trying not to get my hopes up too much. I don’t want to be disappointed again," she admitted.
    "I can relate. Be sure and let me know how it goes. Where are you going to dinner?"
    "Mexican Village."
    "Sounds great. I’m envious," I said.
    "Why? What’s your weekend like?"
    "Jon will be gone until a week from Tuesday, so I’ll be shuffling kids around and playing single mom for yet another weekend." I heard my own sadness.
    "I’m sorry. Doesn’t sound like much fun. Don’t you get lonely?"
    "Yeah, and I hate it," I admitted. "Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. You know me, I’m ‘Miss Roll with the Punches.’"
    "I should let you go. After all, we do have to get up early."
    "Ain’t that the truth?"
    "I’ll talk to you tomorrow."
    "Have a good night, Di."

Chapter Eleven
    D IANE HEADED TO Joey’s house at 4:00 p.m. on Tuesday. I didn’t hear from her that night. It killed me not to call her, but I thought it best to play it