“The dynamic duo awaits us,” Rosie says, looking out the window when the bus stops at the Village Green.
Mindy and my father are holding up a sign that says WELCOME HOME, PHOEBE AND ROSIE.
As soon as they realize that we’ve seen it they turn the sign around. That sign says WELCOME HOME, ROSIE AND PHOEBE.
“No favoritism allowed,” Rosie says. “Equal billing. Those two are really something.”
“They are. Something special.” I feel much better.
We grab our bags and leave the bus.
Mindy and my father look so proud of themselves.
The sign is put down as they reach out to hug us.
I rush into my father’s arms and start to cry.
Holding me, he keeps asking what’s wrong.
Rosie fills him in.
“When we get to the house, I’ll pick up my car, and Rosie and I will go home to give you and Phoebe a chance to talk.” Mindy touches my father’s arm and runs her fingers through my hair.
We get into the car and drive back to the house. My father keeps reaching over and patting my hand as he drives.
I feel like I’ve been on a dangerous space-shuttle ride and I’ve splashed down safely.
As the car is parked in our driveway I say, “Mindy. Rosie. Stay. I want you to.”
“If you’re sure,” Mindy says.
“I’m sure.”
Going into the living room, I sit down on the couch and wrap myself in a quilt.
My father puts some logs in the stove and sits down next to me.
Mindy’s sitting on the rocker and Rosie’s cross-legged on the floor.
“I’m okay,” I say. “I’m sorry I made a scene.”
“Don’t be sorry,” my father says. “You’ve got a right to your feelings.”
I start crying again. All weekend I’ve tried to keep my feelings closed up inside. When I tried to show them to my mother, she wouldn’t let me. So now they’re all coming out at once.
My father hugs me and rocks me back and forth like he did when I was little.
I calm down. Taking a deep breath, I tell them about the upcoming marriage, how I hate Duane, how I don’t want to go to New York anymore.
They all listen quietly.
“So,” I say, concluding, “they can both rot in hell. I’m never going to see them again.”
“Never’s a long time,” my father says. “It does sound rough though. Look, I’ll give your mother a call and explain that you’re upset and that you and she should talk about it.”
“Did it work when you tried to explain to her what you were upset about? Were you able to work it out?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I see your point. Sometimes I think you and I are so much alike that your mother can’t handle the things in you that are like me. Maybe that’s one of the problems.”
“Maybe.” I crawl farther into the quilt. “But it’s awful when she won’t listen to me.”
“Did you listen to her?” my father asks.
“I tried . . . but not about Duane.”
“That’s a big but. Duane’s going to be her husband . . . your stepfather,” he says. “How do you think she feels when you say awful things about him? Wouldn’t you feel terrible if I refused to give Dave a chance when he arrived on the scene—even though it was hard for me to see you with someone else?”
“That’s different,” I say.
“All I ask is that you think about the situation. No matter what, Duane is going to be in your life.”
“You wouldn’t like him either,” I say.
My father thinks about that for a minute. “You may be right . . . but I’m going to have to learn to deal with him too. He and I may have to talk about what the three of you plan for the time you stay with your mother . . . . Divorce and remarriage means having more people in your life. There’s no way around it.”
“It’s not always easy though,” Mindy says.
Rosie says, “I’ll second that.”
“I realize that,” my father says. “Phoebe, just think about it. Your mother is marrying Duane. How you act now is going to affect what it’s like later. You have some control of that.”
“Does that mean I have to lie and pretend?” I make a face.
“What do you think?” my father asks.
It’s quiet for a while. I can hear the wood burning.
Finally I say, “I have to learn how to handle this new situation so that it works out well for me . . . as well as it can without it being what I really want. That’s it, isn’t it?”
He smiles.
“It’s not easy,” I say.
“I know.” He hugs me. “But I have faith in you.”
I’m glad he does. I’m not so sure I do.
I say, “Thanks. I feel better now. I’ll think about it.”
We sit quietly.
Finally I say, “Look. I really do feel better now. I’m even hungry.”
“Good.” Mindy starts to get up. “Let’s get the dinner on the table.”
“Not so fast.” Rosie grabs her sleeve.
Mindy sits down.
Rosie continues, as if she’s interrogating them, like in the old war movies. “You will be so kind as to tell us exactly what has been going on behind our backs. We want names, dates, and other pertinent information. We have ways to make you talk, you know.”
I join in. “Rosie, should we stick bamboo shoots under their fingernails . . . or drip water on their heads . . . or use the dreaded tickle torture?”
“The tickle torture it is.” She jumps on my father, and I grab Mindy from behind.
Neither of our parents can stand being tickled.
We really get them.
Soon we’re all rolling all over the floor laughing.
When we calm down, I say, “Come on now, tell us. When we called, how come you were both here and planning to be here till all hours and now are still together several days later? Tell us. We’re allowed to see R-rated movies. We can handle this.”
My father and Mindy are smiling at each other.
He begins. “Mindy and I have been going out since the first time we met.”
“How come you never told us? I feel betrayed.” I let him know.
“We decided to wait and see if it was serious.” Mindy puts her hand in my father’s. “If it didn’t work out, we didn’t want to tell either of you.”
“Why not?” Rosie asks.
“Neither of us wanted either of you to feel uncomfortable in each other’s home. We know what good friends you are, and we didn’t want to do anything that would cause you to take sides or be upset.” Rosie and I look at each other.
“Now we know it is serious,” my father breaks in. “That we care about each other and it’s time for you to know, to be part of our relationship. That’s why we asked you to come back early to discuss it. We plan to keep going out. We know that will affect both of you.”
“We had no idea that Phoebe’s mother was going to announce her marriage and the move,” Mindy says. “We wouldn’t have hit you with all of this at once. It’s almost too much.”
I nod, then say, “So what’s the deal? Are we going to all live together? Are we going to have a baby brother or sister?”
“Bite your tongue,” Mindy says. “No more babies.”
“Not for me either. I’m happy with the child I have. And with Rosie too,” my father says.
“Thanks.” I hug him. “Just don’t love Rosie more than me.”
“Sibling rivalry already,” Rosie says. “It’s just what we’re studying in Family Living class.”
“Don’t rush us. We’re just going out, getting to know each other,” Mindy says.
“So how do you both feel?”
There’s quiet as Rosie and I think about it.
I say, “Does this mean you’re going steady? I approve.”
“Me too,” Rosie says.
We talk some more.
With my mother there’s no talk. With my father sometimes it seems like there’s almost too much.
When we get up to have dinner, Mindy and my father hug and kiss each other. I realize that over the whole weekend, I never saw Duane and my mother show any real affection, other than calling each other “dear” and “honey.”
Finally we sit down to have our second turkey dinner of the weekend.
It’s Dave. He asks if I’d like to go out and make out with him.
I like a guy who knows his own mind.
“I’d love to.” I giggle. “But we’ve got company, Rosie and Mindy.”
He laughs. “Well, they can watch.”
I say, “I don’t think that’s a family activity.” As I say it I think of how easy it is to think of us as a family.
He says, “I would really just like to see you. Do you think we can arrange that?”
I ask my father if Dave can come over after dinner.
After checking with Mindy and Rosie, he says, “Invite the Boy Scout over. He can join us for dinner.”