I tell my twin sister to follow me to the attic, and there we once again set out to find photos of Dad, who disappeared the day we were born. “I bet he was tall and handsome,” Beth smiles, and I assert that he’d be about the same height as Mom. The entire afternoon flies by like this, with Beth and I drawing imaginary portraits of Dad who has superhero powers and looks.
When we step out of the dim attic and into the bright indoors of our house, we find Mom in the kitchen. We smell the chocolate cake we are not allowed to eat until after dinner, while she asks us about the homework we promise to start right away. As we are being scolded to go back to our rooms to get started on our class assignments, I know Beth is also longing to escape back into the world of the attic.