Family Resemblance

Surely there would be another one coming soon, Eva thought, as she anxiously scanned the computer screens for an eta on the next eastbound L train.  She had only missed the last one by a few seconds, after making her way briskly through the terminal and down the stairs. Now, she would be late, she knew, and didn’t want to arrive after the service had already started. There would be no good excuse she could make after all, except her general avoidance of the whole event and her desire to be left alone to grieve in her own way. But the day of his funeral had finally come, and her attendance was mandatory, like it or not. 

Uncle Tim had always been Eva’s favorite relative. He played a huge role in her life after her father had gone missing when she was younger. He most recently taught her how to drive, and stopped by “just to check in” on her the afternoon before her SATs, staying up till after midnight to quiz her and help her study. Even though it seemed that her mother didn’t necessarily like the attention he paid to Eva, her mother never said a word about it, instead always found something immediately pressing to do nearby, so that she could be within earshot. They all got in the car together for the driving lessons he gave her, with her mom in the back seat, staring off into space, pretending not to hear any little asides that Tim made to her, as he peered at her through the rear view. She held tightly to the door handle and pressed intermittently on the imaginary brake pedal, but said very little. It wasn’t that Margaret didn’t like Tim, Eva knew, but her mom really did seem to clam up around him and she just wasn’t “herself”.

When Eva got her college acceptance letter, he came over to congratulate her and wrapped her up in the warmest embrace. He was super proud she had gotten into his alma mater, and made a point of saying so. The week before she left for school, he brought a new luggage set to help her pack up. Her mother was constantly teary that whole week, breaking down over the thought of her little dove out of the house and on her own. When Tim came, she wordlessly opened the door to usher him in, then retreated to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine, even though it was only one o’clock. As he often did, he took no audible notice of Margaret’s mood, instead threw Eva a bunch of questions, and got right to helping her take down her high school momentos, and fold away her blankets and clothing. 

That day, Eva felt a need to broach the topic of her father, something she had not felt impelled to do before, as the memory of his departure was such an intensely painful one, and she was even more painfully aware that nobody there ever wanted to talk about it. 

It had happened when Eva was eight, very abruptly, in the fall. Eva had just returned from her third grade picture day. All smiles, she came in to find her mother seated at the dining room table with a haggard look and tears streaming down her face. 

She ran to her mother, “what’s wrong mama?” and climbed up in her lap.

“Oh dove,” she had said, “I… I think you should know... that your dad has gone away for a while..”

“Why? When is he coming back? Where did he go?’’, the questions flying out so fast, and fear settling in the pit of Eva’s stomach. Why would he leave them? Did she do something wrong?

“I… I don’t know dovey.” was all her mother was able to say to her. She just held Eva tight, and continued to cry for a very long time.

For months, Eva asked about her father’s return, about his whereabouts, but she never got a real answer. After a year or so, she stopped asking anything about him. She would miss him at times, and always wondered why he never said goodbye to her, but she didn’t want to further upset her mother, who had taken to some grim moods and bouts of depression. Sometimes, she could hear her mother whispering loudly on the phone at night, but couldn’t make out the words, so she would lay in bed wondering if she was talking to her dad, if he would ever come home. 

When she was 11, however, it was Uncle Tim who showed up to her birthday party. He was  moving back home again, he told them, having finally decided to leave the big city and return to the small town they had all grown up in. That day, her mother had looked totally shell-shocked, and from that moment on, she barely said a word when he was around, but always seemed ok with him stopping in to visit with Eva.

Uncle Tim was dad’s younger brother, who by all accounts had left town for good just before she was born. He went to work for an ad firm in the city, where he had gone to college. He never married and had no kids, and never spoke about dating anyone, so Eva’s hopes of having some cousins around never seemed likely, since her mom was an only child. He did come home back then, for some family holiday festivities, but he never stayed long, and didn’t appear interested all that much in her or the rest of them. Her grandparents were cordial with him, when they were still alive, they treated him not formally, but not overly fondly either. They called him the ‘black sheep’ when he didn’t arrive at dinners, and her father always made some unkind comment about his thoughtlessness or selfishness.

Strange, she reflected, while packing up a box of old clothes to donate, that her father would remark about his brother’s self interest, yet he had been the one who went off and left them with no goodbye, no word. What a hypocrite!  It irked her to think about that, so she commented to Uncle Tim.

“You know, dad always said you were the selfish one, but you’ve really been here for me the last few years. I appreciate it, and I hope you know that.”

“Well, I have always loved you guys and I just wasn’t always… able to show you that. I am sorry I wasn’t here all that much when you were younger. There was just a…” he trailed off, a cloud darkening his face. He cast his eyes downward and cleared his throat.

“Do you know what happened to him? Do you know where he is? Mom never says, and it did me no good to keep asking.”

“Your dad and I don’t really talk to each other anymore… not for a long time.” His weight shifted, and he ran a hand at the base of his head. “I really don't know where he went. But I doubt he will ever come back. I’m sorry, but you’re old enough to be told that, at least.” 

What else isn’t everyone telling me, Eva thought to herself, but then she decided to let it go. Her father had left her, but that didn’t need to occupy her every day.

They continued packing up her stuff, mostly quietly, and he hugged her goodbye on the front porch, after putting the last of the suitcases and boxes into the trunk of her mother’s Volvo.  

“Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything at all, day or night. You just go on, have a great time, learn everything you can, and be safe.. Ok?” He tousled her hair, placed his favorite brown and gold scarf about her neck, beamed brightly as he got into his car and drove away. 

That was the last time she saw him.

The next day her mother drove her to her new dorm room, crying the whole drive, and just kept impressing that she wanted to hear from her every day, to remember to do her laundry, and to sleep enough, the typical mothering concerns she was used to hearing from her. The topic of her father never came up, nor the strangeness with which everyone treated his abandonment of them. With her mom, though, she never pressed.  She just tried to listen respectfully and keep the conversations light, for her sake. Her mom seemed so troubled after her father left, and Eva didn’t want to make it worse.

College then took over her whole world. She spent her days making new friends, going to classes and adjusting to her new life in the city. Dutifully, she called her mother every day. Margaret perked up at the sound of Eva’s voice, and was gleeful over her adventures. She called Uncle Tim as well, but only occasionally, asking for his help on a subject she was taking, or to get some navigational advice about the city. His advice was always sound, and she delighted in his constant cheerfulness. She promised to bring him a bag of his favorite coffee from the cafe that he used to haunt on her next visit home. 

It was three months into her first semester, when she got the call from her mother, in the morning. Uncle Tim had gone for a jog in the morning before work, but a neighbor had found him collapsed on the sidewalk. The paramedics came, but he couldn’t be revived. Apparently, his heart was enlarged from some condition he had developed and he suffered a severe heart attack. Funnily, she had always thought that what the family said about him was unfair, and that he actually did have a big, kind heart. This was true in more ways than one, she thought to herself, as she fell to the floor in total disbelief. She loved her uncle, and only wished to be able to tell him how much. Her heart was itself feeling as if it would explode for her love of him. She couldn't help but despair over how much she would miss him, that there was no one who would understand it, no one to share this grief with.. not really. 

The cafe was in another district, by way of the L train she now rode. She didn’t know what else to do, but to bring the coffee with her to his funeral. He didn’t talk all that much about himself, and she had nothing else she could think of to offer as a sendoff. She didn’t want to be late, but she didn’t want to come empty handed either. She disembarked, wrapped his favorite scarf tightly around her neck, to ward off the chill of winter setting in, and made her way to the spot. It was a family owned little Italian corner place, that smelled of fresh biscotti and rich muddy brews. When she got there, she ordered an Americano, and a bag of their house blend ‘to go’ from the barista, and sat down to wait for it at a table in the corner, where a chess board had been set up for patrons. 

At that moment, an older man with a mustache and green sweater vest came out of the ‘employees only’ door to her right. He closed the door and glimpsed her for a moment, started towards her, then seemed to hesitate, looking a little bewildered. 

“Forgive me,” he said, looking at her apprehensively, “but I feel as though I am seeing a ghost. You look just like him, you really do.”

“I beg your..” she began to say.

“Why, especially with that scarf of his! He never was here a day without it, you know?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Timothy! Never once a day without that scarf around his neck! You know, he used to beat me pretty badly almost every day, at that very table, back when he was in school, I mean. Many a good match we played back then. A real decent kid, so smart and likable. Always in a good mood. One of my favorite young opponents.” He looked wistfully over his shoulder, at the pictures up behind the cash register, and right there in the middle of them all was one of her uncle’s face. This was a much younger version of himself, beaming down at her. In the picture, he indeed had the scarf on, posed with this man standing behind him, one hand perched affectionately on his shoulder. Eva stood there, incredulous. 

“Oh my dear! I am so sorry, I only just read about his death in the paper, and I’m so sorry for your loss. But,” he continued, “well the obituary said nothing about his family. And after all these years, I never knew he had a child! Not that he ever talked all that much about himself. He still visited, even after he got that job, and then again after he moved back home. We used to still play every so often, when he found the time to come up, but he...well, he never mentioned you at all. It’s strange, what some folks don’t share, you know?” He seemed to be expecting her to answer, instead she just sputtered and stared.

“Though, I always knew he was sweet on that girl from home… what was her name?” He seemed deep in thought, scrunched up his face and rubbed his temple. Eva just stood there, mouth agape, not sure how to respond to this stranger. A million thoughts were flooding her now. 

“Oh, what was it?” He went on, unaware of her consternation.

“But, sir, I am not his....” Eva started to say, and then she stopped abruptly, taking a hard look at his youthful photo. How had she never seen the resemblance before? Those big hazel eyes, his hidden behind glasses. The moppish black hair, his now salted pepper. That broad wide smile, with a small front gap. She could be looking at a mirror. 

“Oh that’s right,” he said, still oblivious and prattling on, “Maggie! Oh, how he doted on that girl! Always carried her picture with him, sneaking peeks at it, when no one was around. I am certainly glad he had someone, he was such a nice young man. But oh deary, what a terrible thing, to lose your father so early on. My heart goes out to you. Please take my condolences to your mother and the whole family too? Such a dreadful shame!”  

She stuttered that she would, of course, and took up her coffee and went out the door feeling paralyzed by shock. It was time, she thought, to speak to her mother and finally get some real answers.