Chapter 9

After I talked to my father, I was so mad at myself. I didn’t say one thing I meant to say to him. I just kept saying Yes Daddy Yes Daddy, as if everything were perfect. Why did I do that? Even when he asked me if I was mad at him, I quickly said, Oh, no! But that’s not true. I am mad at him. I mean, I don’t just feel mad, I feel other ways, too, but sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, and I feel so mad I cry. Why didn’t I tell him that? Instead I said Oh, everything’s fine, Daddy! Am I a coward or what?

Last year, Bunny got me to do something I’d never done before—scream at my father. Maybe that doesn’t sound so great; you’re supposed to respect your parents. Bunny’s point is this: They should respect you, too, but how can they if they don’t know what you’re thinking or feeling? I’d been really upset about something my father did. To tell the truth, I don’t even remember the details now, except that it had something to do with plans for visiting, which were going all wrong. I was falling all to pieces over it, and Bunny finally said, “Emily! Call him up and tell him straight out how you feel.”

I thought, Oh, no! I can’t do that! That’s what I always think. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I didn’t want to upset him. But then, I did it. I got up my nerve and I called him. I don’t remember anything I said, but I do remember that I sort of screamed at him, which isn’t like me at all. I don’t like to scream at people. I don’t like to get mad at people. I don’t like to cry in front of people. I think emotions are private, and you should keep them private.

Bunny is so different. Maybe her way is better than mine. She definitely seems like a much happier person most of the time. I get these depressions—like after the phone call with my father—and I think of all the things I did wrong and said wrong. And I wish that I could do things better and differently.

My father’s present to me came in the mail the next day, and on Saturday, Bunny’s mother drove her to my house, and we took the bus to the mall. It was a perfect day. Blue sky and a good fall smell of leaves in the air, and Mom was home and I didn’t have to think about Chris and Wilma. And besides all that, I had money in my pocket. “I feel great!” I told Bunny when we got to the bus.

“Me, too!”

“You always feel great.”

“Not always.”

“Bunny, you’re always cheerful and full of jokes.”

“I have a serious side,” she said.

Then two high school girls sat down in front of us and we shut up. The blonde one was going through her pocketbook. She threw everything out and started moaning. “I forgot my hairbrush, Jamie! Oh god, I forgot my hairbrush, did you bring a hairbrush? Oh god, Jamie, this is a disaster!”

“Don’t tell me, Kim. I have my own problems,” Jamie said. “I’m wearing my shirt out.”

“So?” Kim said.

“So, like, I don’t like it that way,” Jamie said.

“Well, like, tuck it in,” Kim said.

“Well, I don’t like it that way, either. That’s the problem. So tell me what to do.”

Bunny jabbed me so many times, I was sore afterwards. As soon as we got off the bus, she did a perfect imitation of Jamie and Kim. “My hairbrush! My day is ruined! I forgot my hairbrush and my shirt is out. My life is in a shambles!”

I started laughing and couldn’t stop. From then on, everything struck me funny. When we stopped to eat at a new place, I thought it was hilarious that it was called Space Out and everything on the menu had names like Quark Salad or Comet Soda. The servers were wearing caps with green antennae and the name tag on the girl who took our order said ASTRA. Maybe it struck me funnier than it did Bunny. After all, her sister’s name is Star ship. (Bunny says her mother was in a cosmic phase when Star was born.)

While we were eating our Spaceburgers (really, your basic cheeseburger on a round roll), we both watched a man across from us who was plugged into a cassette player, eating, reading the newspaper, and filing his nails, all at once.

That was the kind of day it was. A great day. Even perfect. Then I got home and found Mom’s note, and I got that flat feeling, like air going out of a balloon. Her note said Wilma was at Sally’s house, Chris had gone to a Little League game, and there was pea soup in the fridge for supper. Then there was a P.S. That was the needle that deflated the balloon. “P.S. Gone for a drive with Mr. Linaberry.”

All I could think about after that was Mom and Mr. Linaberry driving around in his pickup truck and—what? What did people their age do when they went out for a drive? Make out? No way could I imagine my mother doing that! But then, why did she go for a drive with him? For the pleasure of his company? What was she thinking of?

After Wilma came home, she and I walked over to the park to pick up Chris. Then we made supper. Chris gave us a moment-by-moment account of the game, and I kept Wilma from going berserk over the pea soup, which she hates, by letting her add chopped-up hot dogs, which she loves.

After supper we did the dishes, made popcorn, and turned on the TV. Still no Mom. I did some homework, then I went into the kitchen and phoned Bunny. “What are you doing?”

“Playing Scrabble with my mother, and she’s beating me. She’s too smart for me. What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” I glanced at the clock again. “Did you see Robertson in school yesterday, following me around?”

“‘Emily had a little lamb … and everywhere that Emily went, that lamb was sure to go.’ Remember? It’s love, Em.”

“Why couldn’t someone handsome and sixteen fall in love with me? Bunny, what do you think a ticket to Chicago costs? I want to save up to visit my father.”

“I don’t know. Four hundred dollars? Five hundred?”

“I’ll never be able to save that much!”

“Make a deal with your mother. You save half and she gives you the other half. That’s what my parents do.”

“Mom would just say she doesn’t have half.”

“How about your father?”

“I don’t want to ask him. I just want to make the money and buy a ticket and go out there and say, Hi! I thought I’d drop in on you …”

“What a great idea, Emily!”

“You like it? I just thought of it this minute. I wish I hadn’t spent the money he sent me.”

“But it was fun, wasn’t it?”

“I’ll have to get a job. What kind of work do you think I could get?”

“Baby-sitting?”

“When can I do it? I always have to take care of Wilma and Chris.”

“You don’t have to take care of me ever,” Wilma yelled. She has ears in the back of her head.

Bunny and I talked about an hour. Mom still wasn’t home.

I made Wilma and Chris take their baths and get into pajamas. I fixed them cocoa with marshmallows and I let them watch some more TV. And Mom still wasn’t home! Just when I was thinking I should start calling the police and the hospitals to see if there’d been an accident, in came Mom, smiling and cheerful, in her fuzzy pink pants and matching pink top.

“Where were you?” I said.

“Out for a drive, sweetheart. Didn’t you see my note?”

“Yes, but look at the time!”

“Well, it is a little late … but—”

“A little late, Mom! It’s almost ten o’clock. What time did you go out?”

“What time did I … around five, I suppose.”

“Five o’clock is when I came home. You were gone already.”

Mom sat down on the couch and took off her shoes and unclipped her earrings. Pink shells to match her outfit. “Emmy,” she said, “I work every day. I work when I get home. I don’t go out, do I? Well, today I just felt like—” She waved her hand in the air. “—fun,” she said.

“Fun?” I said. “With Mr. Linaberry?”

She looked at me a long time. Then she said, “Yes. Fun with Mr. Linaberry. I’ve gotten to really appreciate him. He’s a shy man, Emily.”

“Mom? Mr. Linaberry, after Dad? I don’t get it.”

“Your father doesn’t come into this. Did you ever think I might be lonely? I’m surprised at you, Emily. You don’t consider me.”

I flushed. “Mom, I just don’t see what you see in Mr. Linaberry.”

“You don’t know the real person.”

I felt like saying, And I don’t want to know him! “What’d you do?” I said finally.

Mom blinked. “Not that much. We drove around … out to the lake, and we watched the sunset. And then we ate supper, fish and ice cream. And we … laughed.”

I’d never even seen Mr. Linaberry smile. “What did you laugh at?”

“Things,” Mom said.

I didn’t say anything else. What else was there to say?