“Well, I guess she’s different.”
“What makes her different?” He leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs, interest gleaming in his eyes. This was new territory for us, but it was nice. For the first time since I was a little kid, I felt a real connection to my dad. Ever since Mom left, he’d been hardened. He was dedicated to his job first, fatherhood second, but in this moment, it felt like nothing else existed. That it was only my dad and me, talking shop. Discussing my personal life—something I couldn’t recall ever doing.
I caught myself staring off over his shoulder, lost in visions of the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. It was only when my cheeks began to ache from the automatic grin, which appeared anytime I thought of her, that I realized I’d spaced out.
“I couldn’t even begin to tell you, Dad. I really couldn’t. She was already on the dock the night of the Fourth when I got there, and rather than make her leave, I asked her to stay.” A chuckle filled my words. I didn’t ask her; I pretty much told her to stay. “We talked for hours, and before I knew it, I was asking if she wanted to hang out the next day. I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point during the week, I think I stopped asking, and we both just assumed we’d see each other and made plans.”
“What’s her name?” His interest was genuine, which was unusual, considering how much of my life he hadn’t even bothered to dig past surface-level interests.
“Kenny.” When his brows knitted tightly, deeply lining his forehead with concern, I realized how confusing that would be to hear without knowing the whole story, so I explained. “Well, technically, it’s McKenna, but I call her Kenny.” And that was as much of the whole story as he’d get—least of all because I still had no idea where the nickname came from.
“Do you call her Kenny because she looks like a guy?”
I laughed and shook my head. “Not even close.” Without skipping a beat, I tapped on the photos app and pulled up the one I’d taken of her mid-laugh in my living room. Just seeing the wrinkles on the bridge of her nose and roundness in her cheeks filled me with a calming warmth. The entire time she was here, she’d had an effect on me, but I hadn’t expected to experience it when merely thinking about our time together.
Dad’s gaze narrowed even further when I turned the screen to show him the picture I had taken of her. Deep confusion spread along his brow. Bewilderment stretched out the creases next to his eyes. And disbelief hitched his top lip. It was as if he’d seen a ghost.
“What did you say her name is?”
“McKenna. Why?”
He shook his head before scrubbing his face with his palms, as if trying to wipe away the shock that consumed his expression. He held up one finger and said, “Wait here for a second.” Then he was out of his chair and digging through the small supply closet within seconds.
When he returned, he handed me an old photo that had yellowed around the edges. It was square and matte, lacking the shine of modern picture paper. I had to hold it close to my face to make out the image clearly, but once I realized it was of two young women in the middle of what appeared to be a fit of laughter, it was easier to see. I didn’t have to hold it so close anymore.
And that’s when I saw it.
Or, I should say, saw her.
The one on the right was unfamiliar in every way, but the one on the left was a stunning blonde. I could say she was stunning because she was the spitting image of Kenny. Same long, stick-straight blond hair, identical blue eyes—shape and, from what I could see, color too. Her cheeks were round like Kenny’s when she smiled, and they both had the same nose. All the way down to the wrinkles on the bridge. They even shared the exact same top lip, stretched thin with their matching smiles.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled my skin.
“Who’s this?” I asked, holding out the photo as if he didn’t know who I was talking about.
He took it from me, studied it for a second, and shrugged. “I was told that she’s the woman my dad had gotten in a fight over at the town’s last Fourth of July celebration. The night he and the rest of the family disappeared.”
“Grandma kept it?” When he nodded, I blurted out, “Why would she do that? Wasn’t she in love with him? Keeping a photo of another woman seems weird to me.”
“I don’t understand it myself, but from what I gather, it wasn’t a typical situation. My dad never knew about me. My mom left as soon as she found out she was pregnant, and by the time she was able to come back to tell him, the town had been flooded, and he was missing.” That was most definitely not a normal situation for anyone.
“Did she know about this other woman?” Somehow, my dad and I had fallen into an alternate universe, one where we showed genuine interest in the other’s life. It was a universe that was foreign, but one I could’ve totally gotten used to.
He hummed for a moment, musing over the image in his hand. The aged image that held the exact replica of Kenny’s face. “I’m not positive, but I believe she did. Something makes me think she found out before I was born, which played a big part in her decision to stay away. I’m pretty sure that’s what she told me, and she only came back because she found out they weren’t together anymore.”
A lot of this was brand-new information, though parts of it felt very familiar. “Why did she leave town to begin with?” That was something I never understood, and it was something my grandmother had purposely left out when telling the tales of Chogan.
“Well, back then, having a baby outside of wedlock was heavily frowned upon. Especially in the South. From what she told me—and keep in mind she only ever told this to me once, and it was when I was about your age—she left to have an abortion, which was even more heavily frowned upon than being pregnant in the first place. Anyway, she said that, once she heard my heartbeat, she couldn’t go through with it, but by the time all that happened and she was ready to come back to tell my dad, that’s when she found out about her.” He held up the photo and waved it in the air.
“Did she tell you how she found out about your dad and this woman?”
“Apparently, her ex-boyfriend came to visit her. I’m not positive, but I think he’s the one who helped her get out of town. And again, don’t quote me on this, but I’m pretty sure I remember her saying he was trying to get back with her, but when he found out she was having the baby—me—he changed his mind. I could be wrong about that, though. It was over forty years ago, and it’s been at least twenty years since I was told the story. So I could be adlibbing some of that; I don’t know.”
I stood frozen, completely lost in a state of confusion. “I don’t understand how that has anything to do with why she”—I pointed to the picture in his hand—“looks identical to Kenny.”
“I don’t, either, son. I’ve heard that everyone has a twin, so maybe that’s why.”
That was such a cop-out excuse, though it was really the only thing that made any sense. Nothing else explained how Kenny found her way into an old photo from the seventies. Well, except for time travel, cloning, and of course the obvious, she’d been cryogenically frozen.
I shrugged, deciding to give up on trying to figure it out, and turned my attention back to the journal. I’d originally come to the office to grab an envelope and stamps, and somehow, I’d managed to do everything but finish my task. So while my dad returned the old photo to the closet, I pulled some stamps from the drawer.