“Face what?”
“That I don’t want to be with your dad anymore.” She looked down at our hands, still twined together. “I love your dad very much, but I’m not in love with him… not the way he’s in love with me. That’s cliché as heck, but it’s true. I can’t keep lying and pretending things are okay with us. I’m sorry.”
“So you want a divorce?”
“Yes.”
I sighed and looked out the window again. Still gray. Still cold.
“You’ll have to tell Dad,” I said. “He thinks it was a mistake. He doesn’t think you… you could ever do that to us.”
“Do you hate me?”
“No.”
The answer didn’t really surprise me, even though the word just kind of flew out automatically. I wanted to hate her. Not so much for the divorce; as much as she’d been gone for the past few years, the idea of living with a single parent wasn’t all that new or upsetting. And honestly, I’d been expecting them to separate for a while. Really, I’d wanted to hate her for Dad. For the pain I knew she was causing him. For that night he’d relapsed.
But it hit me then. She didn’t cause that relapse. I could blame her all I wanted, but that wouldn’t do any good. She had to take responsibility for her own life, and Dad had to do the same. By staying married, letting things go on the way they had for the past three years, they’d both be living in denial.
My mother was finally facing reality. Dad would have to face it, too.
“I don’t hate you, Mom.”
The sky had been black for hours by the time Mom dropped me off in the high school parking lot, where we’d left my car. We’d spent the afternoon just driving around Hamilton and talking about all that she’d missed. The same way we did every time she came back from a tour. Only this time, she wouldn’t be coming home. At least not to stay.
“I’m gonna go see your dad now… I guess,” Mom said. “Maybe you should spend the night with Casey, honey. I just don’t know how he’ll react… That’s a lie. I do know how he’ll react, and it won’t be good.”
I nodded, hoping she was wrong-though our definitions of not good were different. I hadn’t mentioned his relapse to her, mostly since it had passed without any significant drama. She was afraid of tears and yelling-the things that should be expected with a confrontation of this kind. I didn’t want to make her worry about the drinking, too. Especially since it hadn’t really been that big a deal in the end.
“God,” she whispered. “I feel horrible. I’m telling my husband I want a divorce on Valentine’s Day. I’m such a… a bitch. Maybe I should wait until tomorrow and-”
“You have to tell him, Mom. If you put it off now, you’ll never do it.” I unfastened my seat belt. “I’ll call Casey and see if I can stay with her. You should go now… before it gets too late.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay, I will.”
I opened the door of the Mustang and climbed out. “It’ll be fine.”
Mom shook her head and fiddled with the keys dangling from the ignition. “You shouldn’t have to be the grown-up,” she murmured. “I’m the mother. I should be comforting you, telling you it will be okay. This is so dysfunctional.”
“Functionality is overrated.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Mom. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” she sighed. “I love you, Bianca.”
“You, too.”
“Bye, baby.”
I shut the door and stepped away from the car. With my smile still firmly intact, I waved and watched as the little red Mustang drifted out of the parking lot and turned onto the highway, where it hesitated as if debating whether or not to proceed. But my mother drove on. So I kept waving.
As soon as the taillights vanished, I allowed the smile to slip from my face. Yes, I knew things would be okay. Yes, I knew Mom was doing the right thing. Yes, I knew this was a step in the right direction for both my parents. But I knew Dad wouldn’t see it that way… at least not at first. I’d smiled to reassure Mom, but for Dad I hung my head.
I pulled the car keys out of my back pocket and unlocked the door. After throwing my stuff onto the passenger’s seat, I climbed inside and shut the door, putting a wall between my already shaking body and the February night. For several minutes, I just sat in the silent car, trying not to think or worry about my parents.
That was impossible, of course.
I reached a hand into my purse and began sifting through the clutter of gum wrappers and pens. Finally, I located my cell phone. I pulled it out and paused with my thumb poised over the keypad.
I didn’t call Casey.
I waited through three rings before I got an answer.
“Hey. It’s Bianca. Um, are you still busy?”
“Are you kidding me?”
I gawked at the giant flat-screen, feeling my face get hot. Again? Seriously? That was the tenth time in a row Wesley had beaten me since I’d arrived an hour earlier. I’d half expected to find some leggy blonde sneaking out of his bedroom when I walked up the steps, but the scene I found was quite different. Wesley was playing Soulcalibur IV. And because I’m a glutton for punishment, I’d challenged him.
My God, I had to find something I could beat him at!
And you know, something about beating the shit out of an animated character really made me feel better. Before I knew it, I wasn’t even worried about Mom or Dad. Things would be okay. They had to be. I just had to be patient and let things happen. And in the meantime, I had to kick Wesley’s ass… or try, at least.
“I told you, I’m awesome at everything,” he teased, putting the PS3 controller on the floor between us. “That includes video games.”
I watched as the character Wesley had been operating moved across the screen, doing some sort of odd victory dance. “Not fair,” I muttered. “Your sword was bigger than mine.”
“My sword is bigger than everyone’s.”
I lobbed my controller at his head, but of course he ducked and made me miss. Damn it. “Perv.”
“Oh, come on,” he laughed. “You walked right into that one, Duffy.”
I scowled at him for a moment, but I could feel the aggravation slipping away. Finally, I just shook my head… and smiled. “Okay, you’re right. I did leave that one wide open. But you know, boys that talk big never are.”
Wesley frowned. “We both know that isn’t true. I’ve proved it to you plenty of times.” He smirked, then leaned against me, letting his lips brush against my ear. “But I can prove it again if you want me to… and you know you want me to.”
“I… I don’t think that’s necessary,” I managed. His lips were moving down my neck, sending an electric current up my spine.
“Oh,” he growled playfully. “I do.”
I laughed as he shoved me to the floor, one of his hands perfectly catching the space above my left hip where I was most ticklish. He’d discovered that spot a couple of weeks ago, and I was furious with myself for letting him use it against me. Now he could make me squirm and laugh uncontrollably whenever he wanted, and I could tell that he totally got off on it. Jerk.
His fingers probed the sensitive spot over my hip as his mouth moved from my collarbone to my ear. I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe. Not fair. So not fair. I made a halfhearted attempt to kick him away, but he trapped my leg between his and proceeded to tickle me harder.
Just when I thought I might pass out from lack of oxygen, I felt something vibrate in my back pocket. “Stop, stop!” I cried, shoving Wesley away. He rolled off me, and I stumbled to my feet, trying to catch my breath, and took my phone out of my pocket. I expected it to be Mom, letting me know how things had gone with Dad-putting any worries I might still have at ease-but when I glanced at the ID, my stomach lurched.