LeeLee and Abahan

by
Peter "Lou" D'Alessio
Copyright © 2011

 

The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do—and working as Presidential Security for the FBI, I’ve done lots of hard things—where the hell was I?  Oh yeah, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do is watch my kid walk across the stage and get handed a diploma from the Dean of the Social Studies Department at dear old George Washington University.  It was a signal to me that one day, probably very soon, I’d have to walk her down an aisle and give my best friend away to another man.  Even though I believe my daughter has a gift for picking friends, it sort of bothers me that I won’t be the number one man in Lee’s life anymore.  It was easy when she was dating in high school—I’d show my gun and flash my badge… well, you do what you gotta do.

For the last twenty years I’ve been both father and mother for Lee; her mom passed in an auto accident right after Lee was born.  Her name was also Lee, so the kid became little Lee early.  When she began to speak, what came out was LeeLee.  I guess it stuck.  Her mom and I had decided to start a family right after I was assigned to the White House staff.  Instead of being blown all over the country, DC was now a permanent home.  It wasn’t our first choice of towns in America to grow a tribe of offspring, but it was a place a kid could grow roots.  And LeeLee, as far as I could tell, had grown to love the roots she sank in Washington almost as much as she loved me.

From a very early age, she grew right into the White House in the broadest sense.  By ten, she knew the folk of the Houses of Congress and the Senate on a first-name basis, but only in private.  In public, it was Mr. or Mrs. Congressman or woman so and so.  Whoever sat in the Oval Office knew her on a first-name basis.  Her intelligent compassion for the poor souls trapped in the Washington free-for-all (and especially the Oval Office) made her a confidant and friend to the DC mob.  Hell, the kid knew more of what was going on than the FBI did!  A couple of First Ladies looked upon her as a baby sitter, hostess-helper, and daughter—which, for me, was a break.  I never got the hang of that “mom” thing.  Hell, I barely got past the diaper stage—thank God for mother-in-laws who were willing to move in with you.

Little Lee had been a quiet child who lived in dad’s shadow.  Literally.  My job often kept me up late in the President’s service, and when Nana got sick when LeeLee was about three and half, a friendly Chief Executive opened the White House up to my quiet daughter.  The household very quickly fell in love with this quiet but inquisitive little soul who found an out-of-the-way place to sit and read her books until, after she had drifted off, daddy would carry her home to bed or tuck her away in a Presidential bedroom.  And when she wasn’t drifting away, she wandered through all the rooms most people don’t often get to see.  LeeLee seemed to sense that this was a special place, and I do believe that by the time she was four she understood that having been given the right to wander about, her silence was an obligation to all the great families and men in the portraits that hung throughout the building.  Which I suppose was okay with her; talking was difficult for her until she was nearing five.

In those days, the man in the Oval Office and his Mrs. were older people, and there were no children for my pre-schooling child to play with.  I attributed her difficulty in speaking and pronouncing to this gap.  From her very fertile young imagination, however, an imagined friend would appear every so often.  I tried to spend as much time as possible with her but, for about a six-month period, LeeLee was closer to an imaginary old man, Abahan, than anyone in the real world.

And herein lies our tale.

 

*           *           *

 

The world was falling apart as China and the United States drifted closer to a nuclear solution no one wanted.  For all intent and purposes, LeeLee and I had begun living at the White House.  It seemed like I was on call so often, going home wasn’t a practical idea.  Lost in my own world, this was a necessary annoyance—but to LeeLee, who had recently been thrown her first “real” birthday party by the blue-collared staff of the White House, it was like dying and going to politician heaven.  She was surrounded by her new base of friends—chefs, dishwashers, a visiting Senator or two, and even a vice-president—and it gave her the right to stay up and watch TV, have bowls of popcorn and sit quietly in nearly every room of the house nobody else was using.  She went from three to thirty years old without batting an eye!  This was a thrill that lasted all of two days.

But after two days of sitting quietly and watching TV shows that were somewhat over her head (by about fifteen years), she gathered her two favorite books and went off looking for a quiet place.  She slipped past several butler types, secretaries, assistant hangers-on, and a small clan of assorted agents who were more attuned to solving the problems of those who solved the problems of the world than the problems of one little girl looking for a quiet place to be.

LeeLee walked around the grand old house and settled on a bedroom Mr. Churchill had used on a visit during the war years.  There was a superb old fireplace that hadn’t been used in years and was just meant for a four year old to explore.  She laid her books on a bedside table that held a lamp.  The front of the fireplace was open and just big enough for a little kid to slip in and take a “good” look.

“Wow!” she exhaled as she peered through the opened flu, and as her “wow” climbed up the chimney to heaven she followed the sound with a chorus of little kid giggles.  Realizing how unique and rare this situation was, LeeLee decided taking full advantage of it was a must!  “I love you, you love me,” she sang through the giggles and, try as she might to avoid it, at the ending of the tune which she had decided to dramatize, all the giggles turned to laughter.  And she stood there on the line between naughty and nice, she heard the bedroom door shut and felt a pair of eyes studying her.  She drew herself out of the chimney and turned towards the eyes.

Standing in front of the closed door stood a tall, thin man.  He was gawky looking to the child, awkward.  His face was drawn and lined but he took his hat off and nodded to the youngster.  At first she was terrified, but there was softness in his eyes and smile that stole LeeLee’s fear away.

“Well, good evening young lady,” he spoke.  “For some one so small, you’re raising quite a fuss and ruckus!”  The child, caught off guard, started blinking and stammering, certain she had awakened the man and his family.  “Child, calm down, you’ve done nothing wrong.”  The man smiled warmly and LeeLee could do nothing but smile back.  “I’ve been looking for my own child, and with all that noise you were making, I thought it might be him.”  Of a sudden, the man seemed to be filled with sadness and LeeLee could almost feel his deep loneliness.  But it quickly passed and the man smiled again.  “By God, they’re rascals!  I’m sure I’ll hear about them tomorrow.”

The idea of having another child to play with lit LeeLee’s eyes.  This delighted the man.  Turning towards the lamp, he spied the books.  He walked over and examined them with a visible curiosity.  “These yours?” he asked, still looking at the colorful pictures of lions and spacemen dancing atop one-sentence explanations in large block print.  “Does such a lovely young lady already know how to read?  I’ll bet you just look at the pictures!”

LeeLee stuck her head out and shook it in great urgency.  “Oh no, sir, my daddy taught me d’alpabetz!  I sound out pretty good!  I read all a time!”

The old man took the book with him as he walked towards a small love seat.  “Good girl,” the elderly man smiled as he sat.  “I used to read all the time too.  Seems to me books serve to show a man that those original thoughts of his aren’t very new after all.”  LeeLee’s face flushed with innocent confusion and the stranger laughed.  “Don’t worry, dear, you’ll understand that someday.  Will you sit here and read to me?”

Well, you didn’t have to ask her twice.  Lee stepped out of the fireplace and, dusting off her jump suit, she marched straight to the love seat.  Before she could sit, the man stopped her and examined her style of dress.  “My dear, is that what young ladies wear in society today?”

LeeLee pulled her head back in surprise and quickly answered, “The ones dat climb into fireplaces do!  Oh!  I’m LeeLee!  Who are you?  You work here?”

The old man smiled fondly at her and nodded.

 

When I found her, LeeLee was stretched out on the love seat, her books on the floor beneath her.  “Where’d you take off to, kid?  Even the President was looking for you.  I was crazy trying to find you.  You’re getting worse than the Chinese—you’re showing up all over the place!”

LeeLee rubbed the slumber from her eyes and looked around the room.  In a sleepy voice she asked, “Where’d he go, daddy.  Where’s Abahan?”  I looked at my daughter with my “you’re dreaming” expression, then we went through the sacred “Who?” ritual that moms, dads, and children have employed since the very first time an over-tired kid had been awakened too suddenly from a nap.  “But he is weal, daddy, he woks here, jus’ like you!”  I looked over at the White House aide who had been helping me find my wayward kid.

He shook his head.  “LeeLee, I’ve been here for six years and I’ve never known an Abahan.  I think you were dreaming, sweetie.”  I could see the frustration on Lee’s face, which meant her mother’s stubborn streak was not far behind.  “He’s a nice man, daddy.  He’s looking for his sons, and he…”

Well, that was it!  For the next week, as soon as we arrived at the White House, LeeLee would bolt for that bedroom, even bypassing the milk and cookies the White House chef would leave out for her.  And much to the amusement of the staff, Lee could be heard wandering from empty room to empty room calling gently for her imaginary chum.  And then the calling would stop, and at the end of my day I knew where to go to find her sleeping peacefully.

 

“AAAA-ba-hannn!”

“Here, Miss LeeLee.”  The old man was in one of his wandering moods, and Lee knew not to object.  If she did, her friend would just smile and keep walking as if he was looking for something.  Often, after roaming the halls, Abahan would stand outside the closed doors of what he said had once been his library, but now was the President’s Oval Office.  Lee always felt it was not the door that was the barrier, but the voices that carried through it almost unobstructed.

One cold February evening Lee and the old man stood listening to some grave sounding conversation between the President and his Advisors.  They spoke about a lot of things, but mainly the Chinese Army, nuclear war, and mounting numbers of the dead.  Although LeeLee could tell it was serious, she really didn’t understand what all the words meant—but her friend did.  The old man stood somberly silent, and there seemed to be tears forming on his already heavily-lined face.

“Abahan, ah you okay?” she said, slipping her tiny hand into a giant paw.

“It never seems to end.  Foolish men, Miss Lee.  They’re just going to anger the Chinese even more.  The best way to destroy an enemy is to make him your friend.  These fools are talking as if war’s already been declared by the Chinese.  Those who look for the bad in people will surely find it.”  Now tears were forming in young Lee’s eyes.  “Now, now,” said the old man.  “We’ll have none of that here!”  He reached down and lifted the little girl up onto his still-broad shoulders and fairly danced down the hall.  “My boys loved to be carried through the house on my shoulders.  They liked to reach up and touched the rafters!”  The merry jig ended abruptly.  “Miss Lee,” Abahan spoke, “I know a place where red Indians hunt and help the Hawkeye fight the French!  And I’ll do the reading this time!”

 

Over the next week while the Chinese were getting more vocal, LeeLee was shutting up tighter than a clam.  Not in a creepy or bad way, but she seemed very content to just stand and listen.  What responses she gave usually came with raised eyebrows and started with the phrase, “Abahan says…”  I suppose as a parent I should have been frantic, but what Abahan was saying—be he real or imagined—was often thoughtful and intelligent.  Whoever this strange, unseen or imaginary mentor was, he was showing her a wider world than I was.  She was curtsying (who the hell showed her that!) as the President and his staff passed, and bowing to the Chinese Delegates whenever they went by… which seemed to impress them more than the American officials who were bending over backwards and doing flips trying to impress them.

 

*           *           *

 

So many thoughts are going through my head as I see her beginning her walk across stage.  I think she’s looking for me.  She’s swinging her head slowly back and forth as if she’s looking for me out there in the audience.  I’m wondering how proud a parent can be?  Top honors for a kid who couldn’t speak clearly until she was five!

 

*           *           *

 

“We do owe them quite a bit, and now… what was the new expression you gave me?  Now they’re all up in our face!  Well, we’re not wholly wrong either, Miss LeeLee.  Those who deny freedom to others deserve it not for themselves.  A few rule the many.  China will pay for that someday, probably with a very terrible civil war…”

“What’s a silver war, Abahan?”  The child looked up from the picture book they were looking through and glanced at her friend, who smiled down lovingly at her—but smiled as if a great weight had suddenly been placed on his broad shoulders.

“Not ‘silver’, dear Lee… ‘civil’.  It is a war between people of the same country, and it is the most terrible kind of war I know of.  Well… a war fought with Mr. Truman's bombs would be very bad, too!”

“Who?”

“Oh lord, I’m sorry Miss Lee, he was a little before your time.  He was the man who became President after Mr. Roosevelt died.  A man after my own heart, Harry was.  He was forced to make a most terrible decision to save American lives.”  He looked at the child, who was showing no signs of disinterest and hanging on his every word.  “At the end of the second great war, Mr. Truman, to save American soldiers, sailors, and Marines who would have to land and conquer Japan and the Japanese, allowed the use of a terrible weapon.  We don’t seem to do well with Oriental people, do we?  And now, Lee, we are on the edge of a terrible war—and both sides have that weapon.”

“Isn’t dey sompthing we can do, Abahan?  I don’t wanna war!”

“Miss LeeLee, the best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.  Trust in God and cross your fingers, and we’ll see.  Now.  Walk with me, please.  I suddenly remember where I left one of my sons’ favorite toys.  Best to get it back.”

 

The odd looking couple stood in front of the shut doors of the Oval Office.  Screams of anger were filling the air for the first time in these meetings.  LeeLee was pressing hard against her friend’s leg and trying to pull his long coat around her, as if it could both hide and protect her.

“I don’t wanna do dis, Abahan.”  Her friend gently slid her out from under his long coat and patted her on the shoulder.

“Miss LeeLee, be sure you put your feet in the right place, and stand firm.  They’ll listen to you better than they’ll listen to me.  Now, I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, but I certainly think these gentleman could use some of your help.”

“Will you stay here, Abahan?  Wight here were dey kin sees you?”

The old man smiled down at the honest innocence of the child at his knee, and he knelt in front of her to look her directly in the eye.  “My dear Lee, I’ll be right here where you can see me.  But they won’t see me.  If you falter, I’ll be here to lift you up.”  The child looked at the ground and exhaled as if conceding to the terms dictated to her.

“Okay, Abahan… but you better talk to my daddy if I get in trouble!”

“It’s a deal!”

 

In the midst of the turmoil, the little fist knocking at the doors of the great office was not heard.  Summoning up all her courage and certain she would be given the world’s longest “time-out,” she pushed the great door open.  The volume dropped immediately as the little girl let the door swing open.  All eyes fell upon her and it scared the b’Jesus out of the child.  It could have ended right there, but LeeLee felt a hand on her back nudge her forward into a more visible spot in the room.  She curtseyed and bowed and said, much to her father’s horror, “I’m sowwy to bother you, Mr. President, but my fwend Abahan, he woks here too, tol’ me where he lef’ something very, very import.”  Before anyone could respond, Lee had dropped to all fours and started crawling between the President’s seat and the side of the desk, much to amusement of the Chinese and the embarrassment of a near-by FBI agent.  “Abahan said it was wight by your lef’ foot, Mr. President, and he didn’ want you to hut yourself if you took your shoes off!”

Lee crawled out holding a small canvas bag that jangled when she stood.  And, pushing past the Chief Executive, began shaking out a handful of tin toy soldiers in hand-painted gray and blue uniforms all over the papers on his desk.  “I dunno why, but Abahan jus’ needs the bag back.  He said to leave the sol’jers wid you.  I don’ know why, but here ya go.”

She turned from the desk and started to walk from the room, but stopped short remembering something else her friend had asked her to do.  She walked up to the head of the Chinese Delegation, a very learned gentleman name Huang Kwon, and said, “Mr. Huang, Abahan wan’ed me to ask you how many legs a dog has if you call the tail a leg!”

The elder Chinese statesman smiled.  “You won’t fool me, Miss Lee!  Four!  Calling a tail a leg does not make it a leg!  Your friend is a very wise man.”

The child smiled.  “An’ a very nice man, Mr. Huang.  But he’s very sad.  He doesn’t unner’stan why two great countries wanna call a tail a leg and then fight ’bout it.  Abahan said…”

At this point, the President was feeling really shut out from the conversation and blurted out, “LeeLee, who is Abahan?”

“Not Abahan!”  Huang replied.  “The child says his name wrong.  Him!”  He pointed to a portrait that had recently been hung on the wall that the Chinese would have to sit and face.  LeeLee looked at where he was pointing and ran to the portrait.  She stood there and studied it intently.

“Yeah, that’s him.  How young he looks in dis picture!” she said, almost under her breathe.  She pointed and, looking back at her dad and the President, said, “That’s him!  Abahan Linka!”

The Asian walked over to her and squatted next to her.  “Lee, it’s A—bra—ham, Link-on.  That is a thought of Mr. Lincoln’s.  Do you know that man?  Is he here?  Now?”  Lee peeled her eyes off the painting, glanced at Huang, and then the door.  “Yeah, Mr. Huang, he’s wight ova…”  She looked at the opened door and shook her head.  “Forget it!” she grumbled.  “He’s gone!”  And, very matter-of-factly, added, “He does that a lot!”

 

There was a private message in those toy soldiers that nobody but the President understood.  And the Chinese?  They never doubted for a moment that the spirit of a great man had consented to visit them in the midst of great strife.  Both parties stopped calling a leg a tail and started calling a spade a spade.  And much to LeeLee’s satisfaction, the war she never wanted never came.

I’m sure the Chinese would have argued, but we couldn’t quite see “Honest” Abe Lincoln hanging out with a four year old kid, even one as precocious as Lee.

For the next few months, all I ever heard was, “Abahan said…”  But as things calmed down in Washington, my duties at the White House assumed a more normal schedule, and little by little Abahan seemed to fade.  And in the course of two more Presidencies whenever I teased Lee about her imaginary friend, she would smile and remind me that in a time when I wasn’t completely there for her—he was!

 

*           *           *

 

There is an insane shuffle as parents and graduates flow together.  In the mad dash to get to their kids, elbows start flying and some little old lady cold-cocks me a good shot and I nearly go down.  But a large hand caught me by my shoulder and kept me from falling over.  I could see Lee coming towards me waving wildly.  The large hand holding me up now patted my shoulder.  From behind the hand a voice said, “We did a great job raising her, didn’t we George!”  I fought the rush of people to turn around, and when I finally reversed my direction all I could see was a very tall stovepipe hat on a very tall man working its way to an exit.

 

THE END

 

Love it?  Hate it?  Comment in the Forum!