Read Online Identity Issues by Claudia Whitsitt - Free Book Online Page B

eligible men when you spent your day in a middle school and your evenings going to the gym, then home to correct a stack of test papers.
    "I told her to have him call me. I’ll talk to him and decide if he’s someone I could chat with through an entire meal without wanting to bolt. He’s supposed to call tonight, but I don’t know if it’s even worth the trouble."
    "You like coffee, so why don’t you meet at a bookstore with a coffee shop attached? That way, you can talk about books you’ve read and you won’t have to try to come up with a scintillating topic."
    She brightened. "Good idea."
    I glanced at my watch. "Gotta run. If I don’t see you before the day’s over, have a good weekend."
    "You, too."
    I found the wedding photographs in my dresser drawer when I got ready for bed that night. Jon must have deposited them inside after dinner the other night.
Thank you.
    I opened the folded paper and stared at the photo of Jon Stitsill, the impostor. His long arms reminded me of their pendulum motion as he’d purposefully walked down the street two nights ago. How could I ignore this?
    I couldn’t help but wonder why Rosita would ask me if my Jon was her husband when she thought the guy in the picture was dead? Was she part of a cover–up? Was he a drug dealer using his kids as a foil to conceal his activities?
    I decided to take the pictures to school on Monday and show them to Di to confirm my suspicions. We both knew what we’d seen, but this would make the reality indisputable.
    My anxiety bubbled to the surface again. My heart raced as I considered telling Jon about Stitsill’s very real appearance outside of Rosie’s house. I couldn’t be sure how he’d react. Not that the option presented itself. Six thousand four hundred eighteen miles apart, I couldn’t tell him even if I wanted to. I hated to keep secrets from him. In fact, I couldn’t recall that I’d ever kept anything from him. This was a simple postponement. I fell asleep amidst a myriad of scenarios playing in my head. My best honed skill? Making myself crazy.

Chapter Nine
    S ATURDAY MORNING I awoke to the chatter of five scheming children. I plodded downstairs, hoping that the murkiness in my head would clear after some strong coffee. I fried bacon while I waited for the coffee to brew, then set the table, praying all the while that they’d quiet down until I had a chance to fully wake up. When the coffee didn’t work its magic, I headed for the shower, leaving the kids to clean up and watch cartoons until I returned.
    Once fully soaked, with my hair lathered up with shampoo, and shaving cream slathered on my legs, Lizzie came banging on the bathroom door.
    "Mom, hurry, it’s an emergency!" she shrieked.
    Oh, great! What now? I wondered. But I calmly asked, "What is it, sweetie?"
    "Annie’s hair is stuck in the vacuum!" She continued to shriek and beat on the door.
    "You can stop the pounding. I hear you, and I’m coming."
    I pulled on sweats over my dripping body and wrapped a towel around my still soapy head.
Good Lord, why couldn’t I catch a break?
I opened the door to a hysterical mop–headed kid.
    I rested a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Where’s Annie? Take me to her. Don’t worry, she’ll be okay."
    Lizzie led me down the steps at break–neck speed. I certainly felt more awake now, and uncomfortable. My clothes stuck to my body and my ears were plugged with suds.
    Seated on the family room floor in her flannel nightgown with her brothers and sisters gathered around her, the hand vacuum sucked at her temple. I squelched a chuckle. A scene out of a slapstick movie, her siblings’ mouths agape. No words emerged. The kids had never been this quiet.
    "Does anyone want to tell me what’s going on?" I bent down next to Annie to assess the damage.
    No one spoke.
    Annie’s hair was long and flowing, like Rapunzel’s. Now wrapped around the roller of the hand vac, it reminded me of the tape on a lint roller. I unplugged the