Rosie’s gone.
Her father just picked her up.
He seemed okay. It’s hard to tell the first time I meet someone. I just kept remembering how he acts to Mindy.
Mindy. My father.
I have to deal with my mother at the moment. That’s enough to think about.
I go into the kitchen.
My mother’s sitting at the table, drinking another cup of coffee.
Pouring a glass of milk, I join her.
She asks me whether Dad and Mindy are going out, kind of casually, but in a way that I know she’s really interested.
I shrug. Even if I knew, I wouldn’t say anything. I’ve learned not to get in the middle.
Then she says, “Phoebe, remember how upset I was when Duane and I broke up?”
Remember? How can I forget? That’s all she’s talked about lately.
Continuing, she says, “One of the problems was that we never could spend much time together when you visited. I didn’t want you to get upset because he wanted to stay here, and I know it made you uncomfortable. But now Duane and I have talked it out and I want you to get to know him better . . . to like each other. He’s very important to me and I want to continue the relationship. He wants to be with me and I want to be with him.”
The phone rings.
It’s for her . . . . Duane.
While she’s talking to him, I make my getaway.
Going into my room, I want to tear everything apart.
How can she say that I’ve got to do something that I can’t?
I pick up a stuffed animal and throw it across the room.
It hits the wall.
I pick it up and hug it to me. “I’m sorry.”
I’m not sure if I’m sorrier for my stuffed animal or for me.
When my mother gets off the phone, I call Dave.
Something in my life has to stay the same.
I hope that he still cares.
I call him.
He still does care, a lot, he says.
I’m really glad that I don’t have to depend on my parents for everything.