Far Enough

Ms. Padgett handed out progress reports at the end of the day. Veronica’s came with a letter, which she doubted was talking about her wonderful contributions to class. Her parents weren’t idiots—they had to know things weren’t going well. But she wasn’t looking forward to the discussion her parents were likely to engage her in after reading the letter. She came home and put the letter and the report under the flour jar on the kitchen counter. Maybe no one would see it.

“What is this?” asked her father, holding up the letter. When you wanted him to notice things he saw nothing. But now, of course, his eyes were radar.

Veronica was trying to think of ways to stall the inevitable. She didn’t want to watch her parents’ faces express disappointment.

The buzzer from the intercom rang and saved her. There was a mad rush to set the table. Veronica and her father gathered plates and silverware while Marion Morgan dug in her purse frantically for her wallet. Everyone was so distracted Veronica actually thought she might get away without answering the original question.

“What the hell is this?” Marvin Morgan asked again.

Veronica felt a headache coming. Why didn’t he just open the envelope already?

“Burritos,” his wife declared. She took the envelope out of his hand.

“Burritos, oh boy!” he said. “Which one is mine?”

“They’re all the same, veggie. It’s meatless Monday in the Morgan house. Pass the pico de gallo, please, and the sour cream.”

“Marion?”

“Marvin?”

“It’s Friday.”

“That is true, dear heart, but I forgot on Monday.” Her mother opened the envelope.

Veronica winced. Her mother read it slowly and handed it to her father. “We expected your grades to take a bit of a beating,” her mother said. “But this business with Melody, that is not good. That is not something only limited to you. You took advantage of that girl and it seems like something that needs discussing.”

“I didn’t take advantage of her. She handed in work with my name on it, but I never asked her to,” Veronica said.

“This is yummy, by the way,” Marvin said, devouring his burrito.

“Marvin.”

“What?”

“Please. Let Veronica talk.”

Veronica didn’t want to reenter the fishbowl of her parents’ concern. She thought they were going to let Dr. Snope do his work and leave her alone. How did she feel about disappointing Ms. Padgett and basically lying about doing work on a project she had not done work on? She felt distinctly not good about it. But how could she have chosen schoolwork over spending time with Cadbury every second while she still had the chance? She still missed him and no matter what she tried to fill herself with—Scrabble games with Mary or cuddling with her mom—everything just trickled out and she was empty all over again.

“I am grieving,” Veronica finally said because it was true and because she hoped it would end the discussion. “And,” she added, “I agree with Daddy, this burrito is good.”

“That’s my girl!” her father said. There was nothing like discussing food to get the whole Morgan family off on a tangent. Veronica could probably murder someone but they would still enjoy talking about a new place to get take-out.

“It’s that new place on Ninety-Ninth,” her mother added. “The fish tacos are supposed to be good too.”

“Maybe we can have those on Monday. Fish doesn’t have meat in it,” Marvin said.

Whatever hope Veronica had of changing the subject, or at least the dynamic in the room, disappeared because Marion Morgan looked at her husband like a child who had done something wrong. “I’m just saying,” he added sheepishly. Meanwhile, the child who was supposed to speak said nothing.

“Honey,” her mother said, “you are grieving. And you are doing a beautiful job, but Daddy, Dr. Snope, and apparently Ms. Padgett, and I, for that matter, feel that you have perhaps retreated as far as is healthy. Right, Marvin?”

“Yes,” Marvin replied.

“Would you care to elaborate?” his wife asked.

“No. I think you are doing a wonderful job. Pass the guacawhosie, please.”

“Veronica, maybe it’s time to make some steps toward rejoining your life.”

Veronica woke up every day. She went to school. She was doing what was required. What more could they ask of her?

“You were starting to make friends. Friends can help you. It’s not good to wallow. You were invited to that Valentine’s party. Right?”

“Yes,” Veronica said.

“We think you should go.”

“You told me to take my time!” Veronica said, genuinely dismayed.

“Marvin,” Marion Morgan pleaded.

“Yes,” Marvin said.

“Help me.”

My poor mother, Veronica thought.

“Your mother thinks you should go to the Sarah-Lisa party,” her father said.

“So do you,” her mother added.

“So do I…”

“So does Ms. Padgett. Sweetheart, it has been many weeks since we lost Cadbury.”

“Would you like to finish, darling?” Marvin Morgan said pointedly. “You asked me to take over but you continue to interrupt. Perhaps you would be most comfortable if I stopped talking.”

Marion Morgan put her burrito down and excused herself from the table. Discussions between her parents devolving into arguments were becoming commonplace. Marvin Morgan appeared to be caught between the urge to follow his wife and the instinct to stay with his daughter.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “We love you. And we want you to find some kind of balance between your mourning and the life that is very much right in front of you. Ms. Padgett feels it is important for you to accept the gestures of friendship the girls in your community are making. We want you to go to that girl’s party.”

“Honey, just try,” her mother said from the hall. “If it truly is unbearable we won’t stay long. But I think it is time to begin the process of normalization. Just act as if. Sometimes if you can’t do it, you fake it and eventually your feelings and your actions catch up with each other.”

“But—” Veronica started to explain. She didn’t bother to finish though because the discussion was clearly over.