Chapter 28: Anything Like Me

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1942

Leroy had always known that someday, Danny would finally ask the difficult questions about his mother. Oh, he had asked about her before, but the questions so far had been easy to answer inquiries about her personality or things she liked. It surprised him that it had taken this long for Danny to start asking the uncomfortable things. He'd been much younger when he'd asked his mother questions about his own father that she'd refused to answer.

"Dad?" Danny asked, picking at his half-grapefruit. Leroy folded his paper and set it aside to give his son his full attention.

"Yes, Danny?"

"How did Mom die?"

He sighed, "Well, she...she died in childbirth."

Danny looked down at his breakfast again, biting his lip. "Oh."

"She already loved you so much—she was excited to meet you. The whole time she was pregnant, she loved getting things ready for you. Everything had to be perfect."

This information did not seem to make Danny feel any better. "Will you take me to see her grave?"

"Of course, kiddo. How about we go on Easter break in a few months?"

"Why can't we go today?"

Leroy was taken aback by the sudden urgency. "Well, she's not buried around here. She's on the other side of the country. We can't just take a day trip..." Danny hung his head and looked down at his food, dejected. It tore Leroy's heart to see his son disappointed like that, so he sighed and said, "Alright. I'll make the arrangements. But don't get used to me letting you skip school to go on vacation."

Danny smiled that shit-eating grin that always followed Leroy giving in to his every whim, "Thanks, Dad."

They packed some clothes and set off for the Los Angeles train station early the next morning. Leroy bought tickets to Union Station in Washington, D.C. in a series of sleeper cars. It wasn't until after they'd settled their things into their cabin and went off to the dining car for lunch when Danny asked the follow-up questions Leroy had been expecting the previous day. "Why's Mom buried so far away? I thought you met her when you first came to California."

"You're right—I did meet her out here. But did I ever tell you that she'd been married before I met her?"

"She was?" Danny asked, intrigue and confusion written across his face.

"Yes. To a brave man named Daniel Benson who fought in the war but didn't come home. We named you after him, and she wanted to be buried with him."

Danny sank back into his chair, lost in thought. Leroy let out a sigh of relief and went back to reading his paper, hoping that his relationship with his son could get through this trip unscathed. His stomach was clenched up in knots—worried he'd have to come clean and tell his son the truth, something he was woefully unprepared for. His son had somehow developed a rather conservative outlook on social matters, despite Leroy's trying to raise him with more modern, progressive values.

The majority of their trip was spent in silence—unusual for Danny. He asked a few more questions about his mother, all the while clutching the worn photo of her that Leroy had given him when he was little. Leroy tried to draw his son out of his shell by asking questions about the brightly colored comic books he'd brought with him without success.

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