On Wednesday I stayed home again. I was getting oddly entranced by the world of daytime TV. There was The Talk, which was not to be confused with The View; there was Let’s Make a Deal and The Price Is Right; there was high drama for shiny, blandly attractive people who were either The Young and the Restless or The Bold and the Beautiful. Watching the shows stilled the chatter in my brain.

When the school left another automated message, I deleted it, too.

I knew Mom would be home around four, so at three-thirty I forced myself to get out of my penguin onesie and put on normal clothes.

She made us scrambled eggs and toast for supper. The two of us ate in front of the TV. Alice, Stanley, and Stuart Little chased each other around the room while Moominmamma watched, looking disdainful. Ferdinand and Pippi were curled up on Mom’s lap, and Anne of Green Gables was curled up on mine.

“Can we talk about the separation?” Mom asked during a commercial break.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“I don’t know. How you’re feeling…if there’s anything we can do to make the transition easier….” Ferdinand rolled onto his back and stretched, pushing Pippi out of the way. Mom rubbed his belly.

“There is something.”

“Name it.”

“I want you to stop bringing home more cats. Volunteer for Feline Rescue, yes. But don’t bring any more home.”

Mom looked startled. “I didn’t expect this from you. Your dad, yes. But not you.”

“That’s because I’ve spent the last two years trying to please you both. But I don’t have to do that anymore.”

“No. You don’t.”

“I love the cats, you know I do. But this—this is too much. It’s too much money. It’s too much work. I spend a lot of time cleaning up after them. I don’t think you notice how much. It’s not fair to the cats and it’s not fair to me.”

She was quiet for a moment. I was worried she might start to cry, but she didn’t. “Okay. Point taken.”

We got up and took the dishes into the kitchen. I was scrubbing the frying pan when she said, “Tula, are things okay between you and Jacob?”

I wondered if she’d heard us arguing. I just shook my head.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I really don’t.”

She looked worried, but she didn’t push me.

I had so many conflicting feelings, I didn’t know what to do with them. I felt terribly sorry for Jacob one moment, then furious and betrayed the next.

And I missed him. Or at least I missed the Jacob I thought I knew.

His silence confirmed my worst fear:

I’d been just another good deed.

And also.

He’d killed a friend. Put another in a wheelchair.

It was hard for me to wrap my brain around all of that.

Lies or no lies, I didn’t know if I could ever look at him the same way again.

He’d been right.

I did judge.