My dad is late.
My dad is very late.
I, Amber Brown, am going nuts because it’s almost eight o’clock and he’s still not here.
My mom and I sit at the kitchen table, waiting for him and doing my “Book Report in a Bag.”
Actually, I’m doing the report and she’s supervising, but I’m having trouble concentrating.
Now it’s eight twenty-two, and my dad’s still not here.
I’m all ready. I’ve got on my basic black leggings and one of the sweatshirts that he sent me, the one that says “I love Paris” in French. I’m also wearing a scrunchie that my Aunt Pam sent me. Some people might say it’s a little babyish, but I still love it. There are two round globes, and in each of them are all different colored jacks. It’s so “fun,” and I love the way they move when I turn my head.
It’s not his fault that he’s not here yet.
It’s really not anyone’s fault.
I, Amber Brown, don’t care that it’s not anyone’s fault.
I just want him to be here.
He called the second that he could, once he got off the plane and to a phone.
The plane in Paris didn’t take off on time because of equipment trouble, and then there was a backup at Newark airport.
Mom says that I should just be happy that Dad got back safely. She’s right, but I’m very disappointed that he’s not here and that the plans have changed.
I really wanted to go out to dinner, just me and my dad. We were going to talk about everything and then come back to the house, and then Mom and Dad and I would talk. Now it’s just going to be THE TALK, and I’m not sure how much fun that’s going to be.
I just wanted my dad to get back safely ….. and on time.
He and Mom and I have to make THE BIG DECISION, because there are only a few days until Thanksgiving and plans have to be made.
I, Amber Brown, still don’t know which parent I’m going to be with for the Thanksgiving vacation.
“Let’s practice your book report,” my mom says. “Amber, I don’t want what’s happening to affect your schoolwork.”
“I got an A on my Middle Ages report,” I remind her.
She smiles. “I know. I’m very proud of you.”
I like it …. I like it a lot …. when Mom says that she’s very proud of me.
I think about all of the times she’s helped me with my homework.
My dad used to help me, too, before the divorce and before he moved to Paris.
I bet he’ll help me now that he’s back.
I hope that he’ll be proud of me, too.
I wonder if they’ll both be proud of me when I make my decision.
I, Amber Brown, am getting so tired of thinking about all of this over and over again.
Starting my report, I turn my head, and the balls with the jacks in them make a clinky sound. I like that sound. My “Book Report in a Bag” is on The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963, by Christopher Paul Curtis.
I hold up the brown paper bag that groceries came in. On the front, I’ve drawn a picture from the book. It’s of the Watsons, the mom and dad and the two brothers and the sister, in the car. The two brothers are in the backseat fighting with each other, and the parents are in the front seat being driven crazy by the brothers while they are driving from Detroit, Michigan, to Birmingham, Alabama.
I pull objects out of the bag to explain the book. Paper dolls of the Watsons ….. I pretend to have the characters talk to each other. The mother is saying to one of the boys, “I think that it’s time for you to stay with your grandmother for a while, until you learn to be good.”
Then I pull out a copy of a newspaper headline about civil rights from the 1960s, explaining what the country was like, what it might have been like for some black families during that time.
And then I take out the little church that I borrowed from Kelly’s dad’s train set …. and explain how four girls were killed when someone set off a bomb in the Birmingham church. I tell about how they were only a few years older than the people in my class.
I say, “Look around the class and think about what it would be like if, all of a sudden, four of us were killed because of prejudice, because some people didn’t like our color.”
I end the report by saying, “This is a very funny and sad book, and I love it, and I think that everyone should read it.”
My mother applauds and says, “Good job. May I borrow the book?”
I nod. “It’s from the library. So I’ll renew it, and then you can read it.”
The doorbell rings.
I jump up.
I can’t wait to see him.
I hope that he likes the way I look.
The doorbell rings again.
“We’re coming. Hold on.” My mom does not sound as happy as I feel.
I open the door.
It’s my dad.
I jump up into his arms.
“Ooph,” he says.
Maybe I’m going to have to stop doing that now that I’m in the fourth grade. It’s just that I was always able to do that when I was in the second grade, which was the last time he really lived in this house.
He looks over at my mother and nods. “Sarah.”
“Philip,” she answers.
Their voices are very cold.
But they’re not fighting with each other.
Not yet.
Maybe they won’t fight with each other anymore.
I give my dad a kiss on his balding head and get down.
We all just stand there for a minute.
And then my mother says, “Let’s go into the living room and talk.”
“I was hoping that we could go out and get something to eat,” Dad says. “I haven’t had a chance to have dinner. I rushed right over here as soon as I dropped off my bags.”
Mom looks at her watch. “No, sorry. It’s a school night.”
For a minute, it looks like Dad is going to say something, to disagree, and then he repeats, “It’s a school night.”
My mom looks at him and then at me. “We have some leftovers from dinner. I suppose that while we’re talking, I can feed you.”
“It’ll be like old times.” My dad smiles a funny smile.
“Let’s hope not.” My mom lifts an eyebrow.
As we walk into the kitchen, my dad and I hold hands.
I hope that Mom doesn’t mind that I’m holding hands with Dad and not with her.
It’s so weird.
We’re all in the house together.
I wish it was like old times, the old times that were good.
At least that way I wouldn’t still have to make this awful decision.
But I don’t think that’s going to happen….
