When I awoke, Robin, Aretha, and Crenshaw were spread out on my mattress. Robin and Aretha were both drooling a little.
Sitting on the floor across from us were my mom and dad. They had on their bathrobes. My dad had my crumpled note, flattened out, in his lap.
“Good morning,” my mom whispered.
I didn’t answer her. I didn’t even look at her.
“Fact,” my dad said softly. “Parents make mistakes.”
“A lot,” my mom added.
“Fact,” said my dad. “Parents try not to burden their kids with grown-up problems. But sometimes that’s hard to do.”
Robin stirred, but she didn’t wake.
“Well, it’s hard being a kid, too,” I said. I was glad I sounded so angry. “It’s hard not to know what’s happening.”
“I know,” said my dad.
“I don’t want to go back to that time,” I said, my voice getting louder with each word. “I hated you for putting us through it. It wasn’t fair. Other kids don’t have to sleep in their car. Other kids aren’t hungry.”
I knew that wasn’t true. I knew that lots of other kids had it worse than I did. But I didn’t care.
“Why can’t you just be like other parents?” I demanded. I was crying hard. I gasped for breath. “Why does it have to be this way?”
My mom came over and tried to hug me. I wouldn’t let her.
“We’re so sorry, sweetheart,” she whispered.
My dad sniffed. He cleared his throat.
I looked over at Crenshaw. He was awake, watching me carefully.
I took a deep, shuddery breath. “I know you’re sorry. But that doesn’t change the way things are.”
“You’re right,” said my dad.
No one talked for a few minutes. The only sound was Crenshaw, purring gently. And only I could hear him.
Slowly, very slowly, I began to feel my anger changing into something softer.
“It’s okay,” I finally said. “It’s really okay. I just want you to tell me the truth from now on. That’s all.”
“That’s fair,” my dad said.
“More than fair,” my mom agreed.
“I’m getting older,” I said. “I can handle it.”
“Well, then here’s another fact,” said my dad. “Last night I called the guy who wanted to buy our guitars. He told me his brother owns that music store down by the mall. He needs an assistant manager. His brother also has a garage apartment behind the store that won’t be occupied for a month. It’d give us a roof over our heads for a little while, anyway. Maybe some more work.”
“That’s good, right?” I asked.
“It’s good,” my dad said. “But it’s not a certainty. Here’s the thing, Jackson. Life is messy. It’s complicated. It would be nice if life were always like this.” He drew an imaginary line that kept going up and up. “But life is actually a lot more like this.” He made a jiggly line that went up and down like a mountain range. “You just have to keep trying.”
“What’s that expression?” asked my mom. “Fall down seven times, get up eight?”
“More fortune cookie wisdom,” said my dad. “But it’s true.”
My mom patted my back. “Starting today, we’ll be as honest with you as we can. Is that what you want?”
I looked over at Crenshaw. He nodded.
“Yes,” I said. “That’s what I want.”
“All right, then,” said my dad. “It’s a deal.”
“Fact,” said my mom. “I’d really like some breakfast. Let’s go see what we can do about that.”