Kali is leaning on the counter talking to René when I come out of the back room after my shift. Normally he’s in a big hurry to cash out on a Saturday, but today he can’t escape Kali’s endless chatter.
‘Night, René,’ I say, herding Kali toward the door. ‘Have fun at the dog show.’
‘Dog show?’ Kali whispers, looking over her shoulder. ‘Z, he likes dogs and he just said he’s into photography. He’d be perfect for—’
‘Your mom doesn’t want to be set up, Kali, and this is too close to home anyway. You know you can’t mix business with pleasure.’
She sighs. ‘It can get messy. I hate my guitar class now because I have to see that loser every week.’
We catch the bus to the community center to meet my ice-dancing client. I’m still suffering from a Riaz-induced crisis of confidence, so Kali offered to share her expertise in reading the signs of interest. Since she sees interest everywhere, I have my doubts.
Lily is still in sneakers when we arrive. She leads us to the locker room and introduces us to Jason, her dancing partner, and tells him we want to watch their practice. Jason, as tall and muscular as Lily is petite and lithe, welcomes us warmly. A nice guy. A good start.
‘Let us begin,’ Kali whispers in my ear. ‘Step one: Make sure he’s on the right team.’
Unzipping her jacket to reveal a low-cut sweater, Kali sits beside Jason on the bench and leans over to admire his figure skates. After a few minutes of small talk about their make and model, she saunters back.
‘All clear,’ she says, zipping up. ‘No straight man can resist a free peek. Now we can move on to step two: Observation.’
We stand a few yards away as Lily and Jason lace their skates and plan their workout. Jason leans over and checks Lily’s laces and tightens them for her.
‘Attentive,’ Kali whispers. ‘Check.’
They walk to the door together and Jason stands back to allow Lily to pass, his hand grazing her lower back.
‘Gratuitous contact,’ Kali says, continuing the play-by-play. ‘Nice.’
Lily cracks a joke about something, and Jason laughs and jokes back.
‘Anxious to please her,’ Kali says. ‘Sweet.’
We follow a few yards behind as they bounce toward the ice on their skate guards. Jason ‘accidentally’ nudges Lily into the boards and rights her. She punches his arm and he feigns pain.
‘Roughhousing,’ Kali says. ‘School-yard flirtation, basic.’
As they glide onto the ice, Jason lifts Lily up and spins her as if she were a doll. Lily squeals, and he spins faster.
‘School-yard flirtation, advanced,’ Kali says.
Putting Lily in a headlock, Jason calls back to us. ‘I hope this one can stay on her skates today. Sometimes she spends half the practice on her butt.’
‘Good, the faux dis,’ Kali tells me.
I shake my head. ‘How do you know this isn’t just an act he’s putting on for us?’
‘I’ll show you.’ Raising her voice, she calls, ‘Yeah, I heard Lily’s a bit of a klutz.’
Jason releases Lily and turns to stare at Kali. ‘I was just kidding,’ he says. ‘Lily’s a great dancer – totally elegant.’
‘Spontaneous chivalrous defense,’ Kali whispers. Raising her voice again, she calls, ‘Well, looking good is half the battle, right? And Dan says she’s smokin’.’
Jason’s hand drops off Lily’s shoulder. ‘Who’s Dan?’
‘Don’t worry,’ Kali says. ‘He’s just a friend.’
Laughing, Lily skates out to center ice and Jason follows. They take up positions opposite each other, the music starts, and suddenly it’s all business.
‘Step three: Conclusions,’ Kali says. ‘Simple. All signs point to interest.’
Sitting on the sidelines, it was totally obvious that Jason’s into Lily. ‘But why isn’t he doing something about it?’
Shrugging, Kali says, ‘It’s probably what you said earlier, about mixing business and pleasure. Maybe he’s afraid of ruining their chemistry on the ice with chemistry off the ice.’
We watch as they twirl and swirl around the rink, mostly touching, yet still apart.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Kali says. ‘Foreplay on skates.’
‘They should just leave it for now,’ I decide. ‘They can’t afford to mess it up before state finals.’
‘I don’t know,’ Kali muses. ‘When there’s this kind of tension, something’s gotta give. If one of them gets frustrated and starts seeing someone else, it’ll mess them up anyway. Meanwhile, they could be dating each other and steaming up the arena.’
I’m still not convinced. ‘They’re a team. What if dating throws everything off balance?’
‘They’ll bounce back. It’s like I keep saying: if you sit in the stands, life passes you by. You gotta get out there and skate for glory.’
‘OK, you win,’ I say. ‘Let’s see if I can spin them in the right direction.’
When the music stops, I wave Jason and Lily over and ask if they’re busy after practice. When two heads shake, I pull movie premiere passes out of my pocket and hand one to each. ‘My dad got these from a client, and we can’t use them.’
Kali has come up behind me and she’s not leaving any room for error. ‘In case either of you is wondering, this is a date.’
Jason looks at Lily and smiles. ‘Sounds good to me.’
Lily does a pirouette and skates off. ‘Gotta catch me first.’
‘And that,’ Kali says, watching them careen around the ice, ‘is how you mix business with pleasure.’
The Maternity Ward has basically turned into a nightclub for the Banksy photo exhibit. A DJ is spinning tunes, and waiters in long white aprons are weaving through the fashionable crowd, offering appetizers and glasses of wine on silver trays. I’m so glad we crashed it. I’ve never been to anything so slick and sophisticated in my life.
Luckily, I wore the coolest dress I own. It’s a short, silky black shift with a bold, geometric pattern in a soft green and yellow. I’m wearing it with a wide black belt, black leggings, and green flats. I bought the dress on a whim last summer, and afterward it felt too hip and edgy for me, so I never wore it. Tonight, though, it feels just right. If I can crash a party in this dress, I must be gaining some confidence.
Kali gazes around, looking as dazzled as I feel. ‘Sure beats the movies,’ she says, biting into a quesadilla. ‘There are lots of hot guys here, so if Syd’s mom bails, the food and scenery will help.’ Kali is catching a lot of looks tonight in a gray miniskirt, black boots, and sleeveless silk turtleneck in her trademark green.
Syd’s mom doesn’t make good on many of her promises, and she’s gotten worse since Charlotte came on the scene. Online dating is Mrs Stark’s main priority now, but Syd still thinks tonight’s a sure thing, because her mom knows that Banksy (the artist, not the dog) outranks God in Syd’s universe.
Kali and I have seen Syd let down so many times that we decided to show up for moral support, just in case. As we scan the crowd for a glimpse of Syd, Kali plucks a wineglass from a passing tray. Before she can raise the glass to her lips, however, a guy with the face of a movie star and the physique of a body builder arrives to take it from her. ‘ID first,’ he says.
Kali stands up straight in her heels to look him in the eye while she opens her purse. ‘If you insist.’
‘Just understand that I’m trained to recognise a forgery when I see it,’ he says.
Kali closes her purse again. ‘Are you a bouncer or something?’
‘An art historian. Steven Quo,’ he says, holding out his hand. ‘The curator of this event.’
I shake his hand next and say, ‘Sorry for crashing, Steve. We’re just here to support our friend Sydney. She’s a huge Banksy fan.’
‘Ah, Syd,’ he says. ‘She’s a fine artist in her own right.’
Since Syd’s street art is anonymous, I’m not sure how to respond.
He winks at me. ‘It’s OK; I’m in on the secret. Syd’s so talented that I’ve offered her space in my gallery if she ever decides to work on canvas.’
Steve turns to another guest. It’s the videographer we saw on our first visit here. She’s in the same kimono, only it’s been cut off at the thighs and paired with dark green tights and high black boots. Pirate meets Geisha.
‘Wow,’ a voice behind me exclaims. I turn and see Sinead grinning at me. ‘You are looking good!’
To my surprise, Leo is standing beside her. ‘Have you ever considered modeling for the arts?’ he asks, grinning.
‘What are you guys doing here?’ I ask. ‘Together?’
Sinead laughs. ‘Don’t worry, your good work hasn’t been undone.’ She waves to a pretty girl who’s approaching with three drinks. ‘Leo’s here with his new girlfriend. I just came over to say hi.’
Kali and I wish them well and move off through the crowd in search of Syd. Finally we spot her leaning against a bar, drinking something pink from a martini glass. She looks great, in smoky blue leggings, gold flats, a short black skirt, and a halter top she made out of an old Pearl Jam concert T-shirt. At her feet, Banksy looks dashing in a white T-shirt and black bow tie.
‘Who’s she talking to?’ Kali asks, eyeing the tall guy whose back is to us. ‘He’s got a nice butt.’
He’s got a nice face too, because it’s Eric Skinner. His wavy hair may be buzzed short, but I’d know that ass anywhere.
‘Crap!’ Kali says, clueing in. ‘What’s he doing here?’
‘And why is Syd talking to him?’ I ask. ‘Oh my God, she’s laughing.’
Syd is indeed chuckling over something Eric is saying. My disbelief turns to fury. After all we’ve been through together over Eric, how can she be having fun with him? Emotions bubble up in me so fast that for a moment, I can’t speak. I’m angry and hurt and maybe even a little jealous. If Eric still has the power to make me jealous, I haven’t made as much progress as I thought.
‘Let’s go,’ I tell Kali. ‘Four’s a crowd.’
‘Wait,’ Kali says. ‘She owes us an explanation.’
‘What’s to explain?’ I ask. ‘She’s obviously still seeing Eric and lying to us about it.’
Kali shakes her head. ‘They can’t be back together.’
But when Eric puts his hand on Sydney’s shoulder, she doesn’t bite it off at the wrist. Anything less than a bleeding stump is an outright betrayal of our friendship.
I’m glad to see the buzzed-off hair doesn’t suit Eric at all. His head looks misshapen. Dented. I wish I’d known what was under that hair before. It would have made getting over him a lot easier. His jeans don’t fit as well as they used to, either. I haven’t seen him in ages, because I walk the long way to the bus stop to avoid passing his music store. Once, when I saw Miss Daisy in the distance, I ducked behind a Dumpster.
Luckily, I am over him now. So over him. Two hundred percent over him.
But what I am feeling is not indifference. My fingers are twitching to heave my quesadilla at his dented skull. And there’s a distinctly bitter taste in my mouth.
Revenge obviously wasn’t enough. Seeing him again makes me realise I’m still seriously pissed off. That guy was my boyfriend before he used me to get over someone else.
And there’s that someone else chatting away, all twinkly topaz eyes and animated paint-stained hands. Every so often, Banksy – the dog, not the artist – rests his head against Eric’s knee. Traitors!
Once my bubbling emotions separate into layers, I realise that I’m more upset about Syd’s betrayal than I am angry at Eric. ‘I thought we were friends,’ I say. ‘I guess I was wrong.’
I turn to walk away, but Kali grabs my arm and says, ‘Wait, she just slapped him!’
Together we rush to Syd’s side. I only have a moment to savor the look on Eric’s face before he fades into the crowd.
Syd is flustered. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘We thought your mom might not show, and we wanted to keep you company,’ I say. ‘That was before we knew you had a date lined up.’
‘A date?’ Syd says. ‘You mean Eric? I didn’t even know he was coming.’
‘Please,’ I say. ‘Give us some credit.’
Before Syd can argue, a tall, handsome guy walks up to us. His clothes are conservative yet hip, and probably expensive – the kind you’d expect to see on Prince Harry or some other hot royal. ‘Just the girls I’ve been looking for,’ he says, smiling. There’s something oddly familiar about his face.
‘Do we know you?’ Kali asks. I’ve never known her to speak so tersely when meeting a cute guy before. She’s obviously as upset about Syd’s betrayal as I am.
‘Only through e-mail,’ he says. ‘And voice mail and texts.’
‘Willem,’ I say. He looks familiar because his picture is in the paper so often.
‘Lauren told me I might find you here tonight. I wanted to introduce myself and try to talk you into taking my case.’
‘Sorry, Willem, we can’t,’ Kali says. ‘You can afford a private investigator.’
‘That would be … tacky,’ he says. It makes me smile to think we’re classier than a PI. ‘I don’t want anyone else to know. Addie’s not cheating, I’m sure of it. But if she were’ – he pauses and swallows a couple of times – ‘it wouldn’t just hurt me, it could affect her dad’s career.’
‘That’s why it’s too risky, Willem,’ I say.
‘But I was planning on proposing to her soon,’ he says, flushing.
‘You want to get married?’ I ask, glancing at Syd and Kali.
‘After we graduate,’ he says. ‘I already know I want to be with Addie for the rest of my life. Why wait?’
It’s crazy to consider marrying someone you don’t fully trust, but at Love, Inc., we try not to judge.
He turns up the pressure. ‘I’ll pay you well. On top of the five hundred I’ve already offered, I’ll throw in one free service a month for a year at the spa in my grandfather’s hotel. Each.’
‘Any service?’ Kali asks.
Willem nods. ‘Nothing’s too good for the ladies of Love, Inc.’
‘Forget it, preppy,’ says Eric, who’s clearly been lurking nearby. ‘These girls are not for sale.’
‘Is that chivalry?’ Kali says. ‘Coming from the knight in tarnished armor?’
‘Screw off, Eric,’ I say. ‘It’s none of your business.’
Syd has been silent through the discussion, but now she laughs. ‘Eric thinks he’s driven us to prostitution.’
‘I was only telling this perv he’s barking up the wrong tree,’ Eric says. ‘Love, Inc. sounds like some kind of escort service.’
‘Escort service?’ a woman asks. She looks like an older, pumped-up version of Syd. ‘What are you kids talking about?’
‘Nothing, Mom,’ Syd says, as the woman wraps a veiny, muscular arm around her shoulders.
Mrs Stark pulls a man forward with her free hand. ‘Thiziz Dwayne,’ she says. Over-tanned and dressed for a trail ride, Dwayne looks out of place. ‘He’s a gen-u-ine cowboy.’ Mrs Stark lurches forward to hug Eric. ‘Ohmygod! I almost didn’t recognise you bald. Are you and Syddie back together?’
‘No,’ Syd says, with convincing force. ‘Have you been drinking, Mom?’
Mrs Stark nods a little too hard. ‘Dwayne and I were having a cocktail when I told him how bad I felt over missing my little girl’s art show thingy. He insisted we come. Right, Dwayne?’ Dwayne isn’t listening. He’s entranced by Kimono Girl, who’s dancing alone in front of the DJ.
Turning to Kali and me, Mrs Stark says, ‘I’m Violet. Are you friends of Syd’s?’
‘Violet?’ Syd looks mortified. ‘That’s your middle name.’
Violet lowers her voice so Dwayne can’t hear. ‘There are a million Jennifers on Lavalife.’
‘I’m Zahra,’ I say. ‘And this is Kali. And our friend, Willem.’
‘You look awfully familiar,’ Violet says to Willem as he shakes her hand. ‘Have we met before?’
‘We’d better go,’ Kali says, turning so hastily that she collides with a waitress, knocking a silver tray out of her hands.
Dozens of tiny meatballs shoot up into the air and rain down on the elegantly dressed crowd. In the commotion, Banksy breaks free to get in on the action. There’s a screech as his enormous head disappears beneath the hem of a woman’s long dress, followed by Steve’s voice shouting Syd’s name.
The three of us walk down the street in silence, stopping and starting while Banksy sniffs at every vertical object.
Finally Syd speaks. ‘If jumping to conclusions were a sport, you two would be champions.’
‘It wasn’t a leap,’ I say. ‘Because we observed first. He was talking, you were laughing, there was gratuitous contact. Kali?’
‘Conclusion: All signs point to interest.’
‘Not on my side,’ Syd says. ‘You guys may be burnt because you think I hooked up with Eric behind your backs, but I’m just as burnt that you’d think I’d do such a thing. There’s a Love, Inc. commandment about acting on circumstantial evidence, yet that’s exactly what you’re doing here.’
‘You’re right,’ I say, relenting. ‘You deserve your day in court. Tell us what happened.’
‘Until tonight, I hadn’t seen Eric since that day at the church, I swear. But we like a lot of the same artists, and he knows people from the Maternity Ward through me. I assumed he’d steer clear of it after all that’s happened.’
‘He came because he wants you back, Syd,’ Kali says. ‘He still loves you. We were only distractions.’
‘That’s not true,’ Syd says.
‘It is, and it’s OK,’ I say. I am still angry – at myself. I’m disgusted I was so easily duped, and disgusted that I can’t fully put it behind me. ‘Hey, you can’t change the facts,’ I say, repeating my favorite new mantra. ‘Only the way you react to them.’
‘Well, there is no way in hell we will ever get back together,’ Syd says.
‘Why’d you slap him?’ Kali asks.
‘He blindsided me,’ Syd says. ‘He showed up tonight wearing my favorite shirt, and my favorite cologne, and told our old jokes. When he pulled out this picture, I snapped.’ The photo in her hand shows her sitting on the front steps of a cabin, smiling as I’ve never seen her smile. ‘We were at his parents’ place in the country. They thought a big group was going, but it was just the three of us.’ She pats Banksy’s head. ‘And my parents weren’t paying attention anyway – it was right before they broke up. I wanted to escape all that, so we went on a long hike and watched the sunset over Canyon Lake. Eric burnt the steaks at dinner, but nothing ever tasted better. We ate on the porch, under a million stars. It was a beautiful night.’ Her voice trails off to a whisper. ‘Everything you’d want your first time to be.’ She crumples the photo and tosses it at a rusty fence. ‘Now it’s all ruined.’
I always figured Syd had slept with Eric, but hearing her say so puts my situation in perspective. Eric and I had barely gotten off the ground, and while he wounded me, he devastated Syd.
Leaning over, I pick up the photo, smooth it out, and hand it back to her. ‘The moment itself wasn’t ruined. The memory’s just stained. And that’s not your fault.’
‘He was seeing you a month after that picture was taken,’ Syd says. ‘And spending the night at a festival with Kali.’
‘Like I’d ever give it up in a place with Porta-Potties,’ Kali says. ‘My first time is going to be in Paris.’
Syd manages a smile while she tears the photo up into tiny pieces and lets it fall from her fingers like snowflakes.
Kali waits a beat and says, ‘I feel a song coming on.’
Syd and I plead for mercy.
‘Seriously, I can’t just let that image go,’ Kali says, staring down at the fragments.
‘You’re going to have to,’ Syd says. ‘Because I am.’
She loops her arm through one of Kali’s, and I loop mine through the other, and we drag her down the street. Kali’s singing about tattered fragments of love when we reach an old auto body shop. Syd offers to show us something if Kali will shut up.
Behind the shop, there’s a stack of oil drums. We circle the drums to find Banksy’s face painted on the end of each one. Ten doggy faces, with ten different expressions. He’s adorable.
‘It’s the first public work I ever did,’ Syd says.
While Kali whips out her phone to snap a picture, I check out Syd’s tag: a heart with a silver arrow through it. ‘Where’s the ax?’ I ask.
‘A lot’s changed since then,’ she says.
We ask Syd to show us more, and it turns into an hour-long tour of the neighborhood. She points out her handiwork on a garbage can, a construction container, an abandoned car, and several vacant, run-down buildings. It’s fascinating. We can chart Syd’s progress as an artist and see how her life has affected her work.
We turn down an alley, and Syd picks up the pace as we pass a row of old garages. A motion light triggers as we clear the last one, and I catch a glimpse of something bright green on the wall inside. ‘Did you tag that garage?’ I ask, backing up.
‘Can’t remember,’ Syd says, walking on. ‘There’s something I want to show you up ahead.’
I turn back to the garage. The light goes on again, and I see Syd’s piece on the rear wall: it’s a row of bright greenand-buff Quaker parrots perched on a telephone wire. The image must have been here for a while, because the paint has flaked away in places.
‘Eric and his friggin’ parrot safaris,’ I say.
Kali wanders back to join us. ‘Ugh.’
‘I did it as a birthday gift for him,’ Syd says, sheepishly. ‘Because as hard as he tried, he could never catch up with those birds.’
‘I hope he never does,’ I say.
‘Syd, why don’t you take Steve up on his offer to show your work at his gallery?’ Kali asks.
‘That’d be like asking you to switch from rock to classical guitar,’ Syd says. ‘I can’t express myself like that.’ We walk on, and after a few minutes, Syd adds, ‘I wish you’d met my mom before she lost it.’
‘It’s your basic postdivorce identity crisis,’ says Kali, the voice of experience. ‘Regular programming will resume eventually. In the meantime, a nice aromatherapy massage would take your mind off everything.’
Syd laughs. ‘A risky case with spa benefits is still a risky case.’
‘Riskier than ever,’ I say. ‘I feel sorry for Willem, but if that evidence went public … Eric is already curious about what Willem wants from us. If he figures out he’s not our only slam, we’d be in trouble.’
‘He’s still furious about Miss Daisy,’ Syd says. ‘I wouldn’t put it past him to get even with us someday.’
‘We’d be handing him our heads on silver platters,’ I say. ‘And silver platters have gotten us into enough trouble tonight.’
Saliyah is lying in wait for me when I get back to Dad’s – a leopard in green spotted pajamas.
‘You were supposed to be home at ten thirty,’ she says, pouncing.
‘And you were supposed to be in bed at nine thirty. So technically you shouldn’t be awake to know I’m late.’
She trails after me into the bedroom. ‘You’re lucky Dad isn’t here to catch you. Especially in that dress.’ She smiles. ‘You look really pretty, though.’
‘He’d have called if he was worried,’ I say. Basically, I was counting on Dad going back to the office, which he does most nights now – even on the weekends Saliyah stays with us. She hardly ever gets to see him. ‘Were you alone long?’
‘Couple hours,’ she says, climbing into her twin bed. ‘Mostly I surfed.’
I stop with my dress halfway over my head. ‘Surfed? On my computer?’
‘Dad said I could.’
I pull off the dress and hang it in the closet. ‘You better not have been reading my e-mails.’
‘How could I?’ she says, pulling up the covers. ‘You’ve got a password.’
I make a mental note to change it to something more obscure. Saliyah is quite capable of spending hours trying to figure it out, and I still have messages about the business that predate our Love, Inc. account. Hopefully Saliyah doesn’t know me as well as she thinks she does.
‘So, what’s Love, Inc.?’ Saliyah asks, giving me a sly smile.
OK, she knows me. ‘That was a total invasion of my privacy, Saliyah. Mom will not be impressed.’
‘Just tell me what it is and I’ll forget what I read.’
‘It’s a … club Kali and Syd and I formed.’
‘To help you get over the three-timing slug?’
‘Sort of.’
‘But why are people paying you for slams? And what is a slam anyway?’
If I can’t silence her, I may have to kill her. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
She rolls over onto her side and closes her eyes. ‘Maybe Mom will.’
‘I’m not playing your game, Saliyah.’ The green leopard plays dead, holding out. ‘OK, what’ll it take?’
Sitting up, she pretends to mull it over. ‘I like that new pink sweater.’
‘I like it too,’ I say. ‘Pick something else.’
‘No, I really like that one.’ She gets out of bed to try it on over her pajamas. ‘It must have been expensive. Is business that good?’
‘I got it on sale. And now it’s all yours.’
She slips it into her suitcase before I can change my mind. I see that my black Abercrombie cardigan is already in there. Obviously she knows she’s on to something good. On the bright side, it’s nice that she’s interested in regular clothes again.
‘So I was thinking,’ she says. ‘I’d really like to borrow your pearl earrings sometime. Like for my school play next week.’
I glance at my dresser and see my jewelry box is open. ‘Not the earrings. Nani gave them to me.’ I sit on the edge of my bed. ‘You’re pushing your luck.’
‘Let’s see what Mom thinks.’
‘Let’s,’ I say, calling her bluff. Saliyah’s knowledge of Love, Inc. will be pretty sketchy. Our charter and commandments are on Kali’s laptop, and we do most of our planning by phone or text. ‘I may get grounded, but you’ll lose the sweaters and whatever else you’ve socked away in that suitcase. And don’t forget, if I’m grounded, I won’t be available to help you with bake sales or homework.’
‘Fine,’ Saliyah says. ‘Mom’s probably too busy with Xavier to care about what you’re up to, anyway. They’re out again tonight.’
‘What? Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘It’s not a date. He’s just helping her with the Yasin Valley stuff.’
‘But Dad should be helping her. He’s the designer.’
‘Xavier’s really pushy, and Mom doesn’t seem to mind.’ Saliyah gets back into bed, and suddenly the extortionist is replaced by my little sister. ‘What if she really likes him, Zahra?’
Sighing, I sit down on the side of her bed. ‘Hopefully Dad will get it together and win her back before then.’
‘But Xavier’s an MOT. I met him.’
‘He is?’ I ask, wondering why it didn’t cross my mind to ask Mom before. ‘Did you tell Dad that?’
She shakes her head. ‘He was in one of his moods. After dinner, he put on the music really loud.’
‘Jazz?’ She shakes her head so I go into the living room to check Dad’s ancient turntable. The Smiths. They’re his go-to band when things are tough. When Mom kicked him out, he kept dropping the needle on ‘Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now.’
‘When did Dad get so grumpy?’ Saliyah asks.
I climb into my bed and turn out the lights. I hope that seeing Eric tonight won’t reactivate my nightmares. It’s been weeks since the last one. ‘He always had his moments. He just has a lot more of them now. But Mom used to blame Dad for stuff that wasn’t his fault.’ Thanks to my mediation work, I’m getting better at seeing both sides of the story.
Her voice comes out of the darkness. ‘Do you think he’s really at work right now? Maybe he’s seeing someone else, too.’
I want to tell her she’s crazy, but if Mom’s dating, it’s possible Dad’s also putting himself back into circulation. Maybe he even has a girlfriend at work. That top he brought back from his last business trip was cooler than anything he’s picked out for me before. What if there’s a female behind the fashion?
‘It’s all going to be fine,’ I say. My voice sounds uncertain even to me.
‘But what if it’s not?’ Saliyah says. ‘Then at least you have my pink sweater. And my black one.’
‘Plus your blue hoodie,’ she says, giggling. ‘I’m tired of scarves.’
‘That,’ I say, ‘is the best news I’ve heard all day.’