Chapter Twenty

 

Thursday, December 5^th, 5:00 p.m.

 

When I walked into the conference room, Mom was crying. Rick looked disgusted with what he obviously considered too much emotion. Since he wore khakis and a polo shirt, I knew he must have been off work today, so what was the big deal about picking up his kids? I decided he’d just been in jerk mode. Mom must have come from the casino since she was in her dealer uniform. She wouldn’t have been happy on the day shift. She always said the tips were lousy and didn’t make up for the low hourly wage.

I glanced at Ingrid who once again made notes. “What’s up with them?”

“They’re fine,” Ingrid told me. “We’re still working out the details of their parenting plan and we’ve come to you. They haven’t decided what to do with you, but at your age, you get a say.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m gone in seventeen months. I’m counting the days.” I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “I talked to Dr. Danvers at school today and she says that if I don’t get scholarships or grants, I can always enlist in the military. One of the benefits is they’ll pay for college.”

“You could talk to a recruiter and see what it takes for you to sign up on your seventeenth birthday,” Ingrid said, a demonic granny in a teal pantsuit. “You should check into the bonus programs. If you test highly enough, there would be sufficient money to pay your tuition for your junior and senior years at Lincoln High before you go to basic training. It’s a good idea.”

“It’s a horrible idea,” Mom shrieked, then struggled to calm down. “Am I such a terrible mother? How can you leave me like this? This country has been at war for the last twelve years. I don’t want my daughter in a combat zone.”

“Stop being hysterical, Gretchen. It’s only teen drama,” Rick said. “I hear it from the boys at the tire store all the time when they want more hours or certain shifts. Vicky will never do it. She doesn’t have the guts.”

“Enlisting has nothing to do with you or Mom,” I said. “It’s about me and my future. Don’t worry about my guts, Rick. If I didn’t have them, how could I raise your kids for so long? And from what Dr. Danvers told me about boot camp, it sounds super easy after living with the pair of you.”

“Wait a moment. How did I get into this?” Rick demanded. “I got you out of public school and did the applications for you to be in a private academy. I paid for you to attend Lincoln High for a year and a half. I helped make campaign signs when you ran for Sophomore Class President last spring.”

“After you threw a big fit because I had friends over the last time,” I reminded him. “I can always go to their houses. They just can’t come to mine.”

“There was too much noise. Lots of yelling and carrying on. One of them spilled a soda on the kitchen floor,” Rick said.

“Yeah, and he was cleaning it up,” I retorted. “Mom had said that we could have a campaign party as long as I watched your kids at the same time. She brought home sub sandwiches for all of us, but everyone was long gone by that point thanks to your tantrum.”

“Six kids are plenty for one house,” Rick said. “I like peace and quiet when I get home.”

“Well, maybe you should quit making babies then,” I snapped back. “It isn’t reasonable to expect everyone to sit on a shelf like toys when you come in the door.”

“Is that what this is about?” Mom wiped her eyes then blew her nose. “Rick is out of our house for good, so it doesn’t matter what he thinks about the rules there. Kids should have friends. It’s normal. Do you want your friends to sleep over on a Friday or Saturday, Vicky? They can. I don’t have a problem with it.”

“Hello, Mother dearest. Will you wake up and smell the coffee? Their parents won’t let them because we’d be alone in the house. We’re teenagers.”

“Well, I trust you to be responsible, Vicky. You make good choices.”

I rolled my eyes and glanced at Ingrid. “She totally doesn’t get it, does she? I’m a teenager. I’m supposed to learn from my mistakes. I don’t get to make many of those.”

“Name one you made,” Ingrid said. “That could help.”

“Last Saturday when I came off Aladdin.”

That got Mom and Rick’s attention. He gave me a strange look. “What mistake did you make?”

“I should have known that if you were in a five mile radius, you’d sabotage my job. I’ve seen you do it often enough to Mom for the last ten years. I really liked it when she worked at the sub shop. She went in at ten to prep and was home by seven at night. She always had weekends off. If I just wanted to chat, I could pop in and visit on my way home from school, and I only had to pick up the kids at school once or twice a week.”

“How did I sabotage that?”

“You threw fits at her in front of customers until the manager banned you from the place. After that, you sent the kids in to get her during her shift. The upshot was when you left Chrissy behind in one of the booths.”

“I thought that was an accident,” Mom said. “He told me he didn’t do it on purpose.”

“He lied,” I said. “You cut him too much slack. He did it because he knew you’d put her first. You’re her mom, and when you have little kids, you’re great. He wanted you out of the sub shop because they were talking about making you the manager of the new one by the high school. You’d be making more money than he does at the tire store.”

“You know a lot about your mom’s business,” Ingrid said. “More than most teens would, Vicky.”

“I told you that I hung out at the restaurant with a bunch of my friends. I heard how much everyone liked her.” I shrugged. “Last Saturday, I should have looked around and made sure that Rick wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity before I rode Aladdin. I could have broken my neck when I fell.”

“Oh, I’m sure he didn’t want you hurt,” Ingrid assured me.

“Thank you,” Rick said, sarcastically. “I’m glad someone sees I’m not the bad guy.”

“You tend to think of yourself first, Rick.” Ingrid rolled a pen in her fingers. “If Vicky was seriously injured, who would take care of the kids?”

I almost cracked up at the looks on his and Mom’s faces. It was obviously the last thing they’d expected to hear from their counselor. I leaned back in my chair. “So, what’s up, Ingrid? Why did you want me in here? You know what I want. A life.”

“You’re right. It’s time to talk about the next proverbial elephant in the living room. Let’s discuss your emancipation.”

“Her what?” Mom squawked, staring at me.

“Emancipation,” Ingrid repeated. “You don’t have a parenting plan for her. Neither of you intends to pay for her education. I received a grant application today from her advisor. He wants it signed so that he can take it to the school board and arrange for her to stay in classes. He’s the first person who has expressed an interest in her scholastic achievements in seven months.”

“You’re overreacting,” Rick said. “Vicky’s not old enough to leave home, so how could she support herself?”

“I have a job,” I said. “It’s the first thing Ingrid told me that I had to do when I brought this up. And that job includes a place to live when I want it.”

“Actually, I have a letter here from Maura and John Gibson offering to provide you with a room in their house as well as what we used to call ‘board.’ That’s your meals, electricity, and utilities.” Ingrid frowned at Mom, then at Rick. “When Vicky was hurt last weekend, they found your parenting skills less than ideal.”

“I don’t think allowing their son’s girlfriend to move in is a particularly sound solution,” Rick said. “They wouldn’t even let me talk to Vicky when I called to check on her.”

“You weren’t checking on me, Rick. You wanted to bring the kids over for me to babysit after you caused an accident. I had a concussion and neither of you even considered staying with me.”

“You’re sixteen. And if you’re emancipated, who would take care of you?” Rick shot another disgusted look at Mom when more tears streamed down her face. “Oh, that’s a big help. Focus, Gretchen. If Vicky moves out, who will take care of the kids? You’re never home.”

“Because she works all the time,” I shot back. “She’s always held at least one full-time job, even when she was pregnant. He’s right, Ingrid. If I move out, who will take care of the kids? We’re not talking ‘Father of the Year.’ Like John Gibson says, Rick isn’t much more than a sperm donor.”

“That isn’t your worry, Vicky.” Ingrid tapped her pen on the table. “Rick would have to pay more child support. Your mom can’t work full-time and look after five kids. It’s not reasonable.”

“Stay home?” Mom gaped at Ingrid, then me. “Could I? Would the court accept that as my parenting plan? If I was home, then Vicky wouldn’t have to leave, would she? I know she’s old for her age, Ingrid, but she’s really not ready.”

“Hey, I have a job and a place to live. Two places. What do you mean I’m not ready?”

“You have gaps in your knowledge,” Mom said. “You can run a household and take care of children, but you don’t know how to budget or manage money. You can’t drive. You’re not ready to sign contracts or rent an apartment. Yes, you can work at the stable. What about other jobs? What would you do if you needed more money? Do you have a resume? Can you find another position? Have you practiced your interviewing skills?”

I figured she was grasping at straws. I mean, I couldn’t do those things, but how hard would they be? I was smart. I could learn to handle my finances. I could even sign up for a money management class next spring semester as one of my electives. I flicked a quick glance at Rick and saw the horror on his face. He saw his money going down the drain with Ingrid pushing Mom to take on a full-time role in the house.

“I hadn’t thought of those skills,” I said. “Did you, Ingrid?”

“You can learn them at the Gibsons’,” the counselor said. “John is an accountant. He can teach you to balance a checkbook. Maura is a stay-at-home mom with her own business. She can teach you about contracts.”

“Yes, but Mom could too,” I said. “I like this idea. She needs to be with the kids so they know how much she loves them.”

“And how much she loves you,” Ingrid said. “Your parents may not be in touch with their feelings, but they both love you, Vicky.”

“You really don’t want to go there,” I said. “They don’t. I’m just the unpaid au-pair, but as long as someone steps up for the kids, I’m good with it.”

“What?” Rick glared at me. “How can you say such a thing? I’ve been a dad to you for ten years.”

“You suck at it,” I told him. “Last year when I had the flu, Mom told you I needed to sleep when she went to work. You headed off to play golf with your friends and left me with the kids. John Gibson spent more time with me this past weekend than you have in the past ten years. He’s come to more football and basketball games when I’m cheering than you or Mom ever have.”

“His son’s on those teams,” Rick said, “and we have to work.”

“If I didn’t have to work anymore, I could come,” Mom said. “I’d like to see you cheer. I could buy my own presents and then I’d know you had some from me, not just gift cards. It would make Christmas much nicer for all of us.” She paused. “Rick doesn’t live there anymore. We can do whatever I want this year, and I won’t have to try to placate him every moment of every day.”

It was hard to believe my mother was thirty-six. She sounded like such a kid. I sighed and shook my head. “Are you going to ask me what I want for Christmas now?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” I said. “I want one of Robin’s puppies and then I wouldn’t be scared to stay home by myself.”

“Not in my house,” Rick said. “Dogs are noisy, smelly animals. They wreak havoc on property values.”

“It’s not your house anymore,” I said. “You haven’t lived there in seven months.”

“I pay the mortgage.”

“Not in seven months,” Mom said. “You stopped paying the mortgage and taxes when you left. It’s why I work as much as I can. I don’t want to move and lose the money I’ve invested. Besides, kids need stability. They’ve had enough of a transition with the divorce. They don’t need to be bounced around like tennis balls.”

The phone rang, interrupting their new argument about who paid more for our house. Ingrid listened and then glanced at me. “Okay, I’ll send her right out. Thank him for me. Arrange for him to come with Vicky to her next appointment. I need to meet this boy.”

“What is it?” I asked when she replaced the receiver. “Jack?”

“Yes. He says that the snow is sticking, and it’s up to an inch on the ground. He wants to run you to the grocery store so you can stock up in case the weather gets worse. He can’t wait any longer. The roads won’t improve.”

“Okay.” I stood up, pushed my chair in, and looked at Mom. “How much can I spend at the store?”

She thought for a moment and then said, “Two hundred, and get a tree, a pesticide-free one. Organic would be better.”

“What?” Rick glared at her. “There’s an artificial Christmas tree in the basement, completely decorated. Live trees just make a mess.”

“And they smell lovely.” Mom opened her purse, pulled out some cash. “They have ornaments at the dollar store. Get some construction paper and lots of popcorn too. I’ll teach you kids what an old-fashioned tree looks like.”