Chapter 10

“He fell down the stairs?” Mom said. Her cheeseburger stopped halfway to her mouth. “Martin? Martin fell down the stairs? Was he drinking? Martin doesn’t drink!”

I looked around the restaurant. Mom’s voice carries. “Mom, Dad doesn’t drink.”

“That’s what I just said.”

“And he didn’t fall down a whole flight of stairs. Just two or three.”

“But I always thought he was really well coordinated. He skis in winter and—how did it happen? How did he do that?”

I was sorry I’d said anything. “Well, uh … he was running after me.”

“Running after you?” She leaned across the little red table. “Honey, he’s not getting abusive, is he? Ami—” She grabbed my hand in both of hers. “Ami, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“Mom! I can’t believe you’d say a thing like that about Dad.”

Now she looked embarrassed. “Well, he was awfully angry at me, and a lot of times people take their anger out on the wrong person. I see it all the time in my work.”

“Dad hardly ever gets mad.”

“That’s just the way it looks to you. Look, I want to say something. I left your father because, well—I had to. I mean, for my own sanity. Maybe that’s hard for you to understand, but your father and I—we tried to keep things smooth. Smooth on the surface. Your father’s idea, if you want to know the truth. He can’t stand a little controversy, just keep everything nice and quiet, that’s his idea. Raise your voice a single decibel and he thinks it’s a declaration of war.”

I fiddled with the straps of my knapsack. I wished she wouldn’t start on this.

“And you know why I didn’t take you with me. God knows, I would have loved to! But your father put his foot down. I could leave, but without you kids. He wasn’t letting go of you.”

I looked up. “What?”

Mom nodded. “But the more important thing is, I couldn’t take you because I don’t have two cents to rub together. This job really pays peanuts. Anyway, I think Martin was right about it being better for you to stay in your own home—”

“Okay, I know.”

“— where you’ve lived practically all your life. The stability thing. It wouldn’t have been the greatest idea to yank you away from all your friends and—”

“I know all that, Mom, it’s okay.” I don’t think she was listening to me.

“But here’s what I want to say: If, ever, anything happens that makes it bad for you, you come to me, Ami. Sweetie. You know you can do that, don’t you? You would, wouldn’t you?”

I nodded.

“You’re not trapped. Never feel that way. You can always come live with me.”

“You haven’t got room for me to live with you.”

She sighed. “I know. That little closet where I live. It’s not bad, really, kind of cozy. That’s what I tell myself, since it’s all I can afford. Listen—” She suddenly smiled. Mom’s like that, she goes from dead serious to smiles in one second.

“I’m going out on a limb to make a prediction. Are you ready? Your mother’s going to be a great, big, fat success in her work. I’m going to get promoted and all that good stuff, and make some decent money. Then I’ll get a real place, an apartment with a room for you and a room for me—”

She took my hand. “Ami? Are you happy? Are you okay? I want so much for you to be happy, honey. I don’t know … maybe that’s foolish. Everybody can’t be happy all the time. I should know. And I should know I can’t live your life for you. Nobody can live your life for you, except you.” Then she said, very emphatically, “You can’t depend on other people for your happiness,” and she stared at me seriously. “Will you remember that?”

I nodded and we both went back to eating our cheeseburgers. Suddenly, I said, “Mom? Remember Unccy Bernard?”

“My brother?”

“No. Unccy Bernard.”

“Your uncle Bernard? He’s my brother, Ami.”

“Mom. Unccy Bernard. My yellow bear that Uncle Bernard sent me when—”

“Oh!” She clapped herself on the forehead. “What’s the matter with me? Unccy Bernard! Of course. How could I forget Unccy Bernard? He didn’t fall down the stairs, did he?”

“Mom!”

She laughed and rubbed my head. “But, listen, you still didn’t tell me what happened to Martin. Why was he chasing you? Where did this happen? At home?”

“No. We were visiting someone and—” I stirred the straw around in my shake. It was too complicated to explain. “You see, we were eating supper there and Dad was laughing a lot, and Forrest’s obnoxious nephew was there, so I was sort of feeling not so great, and then when she brought out the strawberry shortcake—” I stopped. I wasn’t doing this very well!

If Unccy Bernard were here, he would say it for me. You see, my good friend, Ami’s a sensitive girl, even though her family doesn’t appreciate that. But there was her daddy, forgetting he was married; there was Ms. Linsley in her ballet slippers, and there was the Biggest Flirt, Jones.… It was just too much for Ami. Now do you understand?

“I’m a little confused,” Mom said. “You were visiting someone with a nephew named Forrest?”

“No, Mom, the nephew was Jones. Forrest is Ms. Linsley, our science teacher.”

“Linsley? Linsley? I don’t remember her.”

“She just started teaching last year, right when you moved away.”

“Oh, so I don’t know her. I thought I knew all your teachers. Okay, so she’s a friend of your father’s?”

I reached under the table and pulled up my socks. “She says she’s my friend, too. Last year—”

“What? I can’t hear you when you’re under the table like that.”

I sat up straight. “My friend, too.” I said loudly. “Last year, she and I talked a lot. When you moved out.”

“You did? The two of you talked a lot?” Mom’s eyes got red around the rims. “What did you talk about?”

“You know. Just—things.”

“Oh.” Mom sat there for a moment, then she started pulling the cover off a creamer the wrong way. Cream squirted out onto her hands. “I always do that,” she said. “What did you two talk about? Me? Did you talk about me?”

“No, Mom.” I opened two creamers and poured them into her coffee.

“You’re so good at that.” She gave me a sweet look, as if I’d done something special for her. She wiped her eyes. “Oh, I’m getting teary! Don’t mind me, sweetie. I miss you, and—no, no, no, no, Pat, you are not going to get started on that.” She wiped her eyes again and smiled. “Anyway. So you were visiting this teacher—okay, then what?”

“Well, we were eating supper and, and, I wanted some fresh air. So I went outside and took a walk, and then I found a phone booth and called Mia.”

“And your father ran after you and that’s when he fell down the stairs? Why’d he run after you? I don’t get it.”

“I guess Dad got sort of upset. You know, because I left like that, in the middle of the dessert. And—”

Mom gave a little snort of laughter. “Maybe he thought it was instant replay. First, his wife walks out on him, then his daughter.”

“The steps are old and crummy. It wasn’t his fault. He’s using a cane now. Someone said it makes him look like a war hero.”

Mom’s eyebrows went up. “Really! Was that someone Ms. Linsley? By the way, is that what Martin calls her? Ms. Linsley?”

“Mom! I told you they’re friends.”

“Sorry, Ami. I’m being juvenile.”

“Her name is Forrest Lake Linsley.”

“Pretty name.” She pushed crumbs around on the table.

Was Mom jealous? Could you not want to live with someone and still be jealous?

“Well, I guess we should leave,” Mom said, in her more normal voice. “You need anything, Ami? A new bra?” She laughed. “Ami, remember this? ‘My voice has matured, but my chest hasn’t.’”

Mom and I made up that joke last year, when I was going crazy, because everybody had more on their chests than I did. Now, it’s sort of the opposite.

Mom took my hand and gave me another sweet look. “You know what, Ami? It’s not true, though, about your voice. You had that wonderful deep voice even when you were a little kid. It was the cutest thing! This little toddler with the big voice. People used to stop me and say, ‘That little girl is adorable. What a voice.’”

I wished she’d go on talking about when I was a baby. I really liked hearing it. “What else?”

Mom linked fingers with me. “Should I tell you all the cute things you did when you were a toddler? I have millions of stories!”

“Okay.”

“Okay! Okay, she says. Miss Cool! Doesn’t care if I tell her or not.” She looked at me. “How do you do that, Ami?”

“Do what?”

“Come across so self-contained. I know this isn’t true honey, but sometimes it seems like things don’t touch you.”

I didn’t know what to say. Did she think I didn’t care about things, didn’t get hurt inside? That hurt me, but for some reason I just smiled. “You going to tell me stories about when I was a little kid?”

“I could.”

“I really want to hear them, Mom.”

“Good. I like people who really want. Who really care.”