I’m holding Dad’s death certificate, a document I now hold a lot. It’s some kind of movie-esque piece of paper, a torn leaf from one of his bedside books. I laugh because it’s silly to think he died. 

He pretended he was dead. He’s not the type to die. 

I am asked to make a copy of the death certificate. I’m copying it. 

Where’s Daddy? – That’s what they’re gonna ask me. 

And I’ll tell them:

. Where? He’s hiding. 

How silly… And funny! I’m 39 years old and we’re playing hide and seek with him. Like 35 years ago.

I’m hiding behind a curtain with my legs sticking out. 

It’s a brightly colored curtain with cute ducks on it. All the ducklings are looking in the same direction and smiling. But one duckling is puffed up, has his foot out to the side and is looking the other way. 

Mom says I’m the one they made the drawing for the curtain. 

Dad, come look for me! It’s your turn! 

He’s not coming. I’m coming out from behind my ducklings. Dad’s hiding behind the wide back of the chair. Oh, he’s gonna scare me. I’m coming quietly. I’ll scare him first! It’s not there. Just my loose notebook behind the back of the chair. I write all the time. Dad writes, and I write like him. 

I run around the apartment. I run to the wall, our designated spot. I hit it with my palm. I pound it with my fist. The ducklings are looking on all sides.

“Knock, knock for yourself. Vara-vara for myself.” 

Paap! Paaaaap! Paaaaaap! Damn you! Come out! It’s not funny. Come out now!!! Knock, knock. I can see you! I think I can see you.

Dad, I’ll finish it. Dad, I’ll learn all the languages! I’ll turn this puffed-up duck to the side. I’ll turn him to the side.

Just come out.

Dad… Dad! Paaaa-paaa… you… Come out!!!