“Casey, I’m fi-”
“You’re fine,” she interrupted. “Yeah, I know. I’m just saying that if you have a problem, I’m here for you.”
“I know,” I murmured. I felt guilty for getting her nervous like that over something so stupid. I had a bad habit of holding in all my emotions, and Casey knew that all too well. She was always trying to look out for me. Always coaxing me into sharing so that I didn’t wind up exploding later. It could get annoying, but knowing that someone cared… well, that felt nice. So I couldn’t really get mad about it. “I know, Casey. I’m fine, though. It’s just… I found out Toby has a girlfriend today, and I’m a little bummed. That’s all.”
“Oh, B,” she sighed. “That sucks. I’m sorry. Maybe if you come out tonight, Jess and I can cheer you up. Two scoops of ice cream and everything.”
I let out a little laugh. “Thanks, but no thanks. I think I’ll just stay home tonight.”
I hung up the phone and went downstairs, where I found Dad using the cordless in the kitchen. I heard him before I saw him. He was yelling into the receiver. I stood in the doorway, assuming he’d notice me and immediately lower his voice. I figured some telemarketer was getting an earful of Mike Piper, but then my name came up.
“Think of what you’re doing to Bianca!” Dad’s loud voice, which I’d taken for anger, sounded more like pleading. “This isn’t good for a seventeen-year-old girl and her mother. She needs you here at home, Gina. We need you here.”
I slipped back into the living room, surprised to realize he was talking to my mother. Truthfully, I didn’t really know how to feel about it. About the things he was saying. I mean, yeah, I missed my mom. Having her home would have been nice, but it wasn’t as if we weren’t used to getting along without her.
My mother was a motivational speaker. When I was a kid, she’d written some sort of uplifting, inspirational book about improving self-esteem. It hadn’t sold well, but she still got offers to speak at colleges, support groups, and graduations all over the country. Since the book had flopped, she came pretty cheap.
For a while, she’d taken only local jobs. Ones she could drive home from after she finished telling people how to love themselves. But after my grandmother passed away, when I was twelve, Mom got a little depressed. Dad suggested she take a vacation. Just get away for a few weeks.
When she came back, she gushed about all the places she’d seen and the people she’d met. I guess maybe that’s what sparked her addiction to traveling. Because after that first vacation, Mom started booking events all over the place. In Colorado and New Hampshire. She’d set up entire tours.
Only this tour, the one she was on now, had been the longest. She hadn’t been home in almost two months, and this time I wasn’t even sure where she was speaking.
Obviously that was why Dad was pissed. Because she’d been gone for so long.
“Damn it, Gina. When are you going to stop being a child and come home? When are you coming home to us… for good?” The way my dad’s voice cracked when he uttered that sentence nearly had me in tears. “Gina,” he murmured. “Gina, we love you. Bianca and I miss you, and we want you to come home.”
I pressed myself against the wall that separated me from Dad, biting my lip. God, it was just getting pathetic. I mean, why wouldn’t they just get a fucking divorce already? Was I the only one who could see that things just weren’t working out here? What was the point of being married if Mom was always gone?
“Gina,” my father said, and I thought it sounded like he was on the verge of crying. Then I heard him put the phone down on the counter. The talk was over.
I gave him a couple of minutes before I walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Dad. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he said. God, he was a bad liar. “Oh, it’s fine, Bumblebee. I just had a talk with your mom and… she sends her love.”
“From where this time?”
“Um… Orange County,” he said. “She’s visiting your aunt Leah while she speaks at a high school there. Cool, huh? You can tell your friends that your mom is in the O.C. now. You like that show, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I liked it… but it got canceled a few years ago.”
“Oh, well… I guess I’m behind, Bumblebee.” I saw his eyes drift over to the counter, where he’d left his car keys, and I followed them. He noticed this and looked away quickly, before I could say anything. “Do you have plans tonight?” he asked.
“Well, I could make some, but…” I cleared my throat, uncertain of how to say my next sentence. Dad and I really didn’t make a habit of talking to each other. “I could stay home, too. Do you want me to stay here and, like, watch TV with you or something?”
“Oh, no, Bumblebee,” he said with an unconvincing laugh. “Go have fun with your friends. I’ll probably go to bed early tonight, anyway.”
I looked him in the eye, hoping he’d change his mind. Dad always got really depressed after his fights with Mom. I was worried about him, but I wasn’t really sure how to approach the subject.
And in the back of my mind, there was this tiny fear. It was stupid, really, but I couldn’t shake it. My father was a recovering alcoholic. I mean, he quit before I was born, and he hadn’t touched a drop since… but sometimes, when he got all pouty about Mom, I got scared. Scared that he might take those car keys and head to the liquor store or something. Like I said, it was ridiculous, but the fear couldn’t be vanquished.
Dad broke our eye contact and shifted uncomfortably. He turned and walked toward the sink, washing the plate he’d just eaten spaghetti off of. I wanted to walk over there and take the plate-his pathetic excuse to distract himself-and throw it on the ground. I wanted to tell him how stupid this whole thing was with Mom. I wanted him to realize what a waste of time these dumb depressions and fights were and just admit things weren’t working out.
But, of course, I couldn’t. All I could say was, “Dad…”
He faced me, shaking his head, a wet dishrag dangling from his hand. “Go out and have fun,” he said. “Seriously, I want you to. You’re only a kid once.”
There was no arguing. That was his subtle way of telling me he wanted to be alone.
“Okay,” I said. “If you’re sure… I’ll go call Casey.”
I walked upstairs and into my bedroom. I picked my cell phone up off the dresser and dialed Casey’s number. Two rings in, she answered.
“Hey, Casey. I changed my mind about the Nest… and, um, do you think it would be okay if I stayed over tonight? I’ll tell you about it later, but I… I just don’t want to stay at home.”
I refolded the clean clothes on the floor at the foot of my bed before I left, but it didn’t help as much as it usually did.
3
“Pour me another one, Joe.” I slid the empty glass toward the bartender, who caught it easily.
“I’m cutting you off, Bianca.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s Cherry Coke.”
“Which can be just as dangerous as whiskey.” He put the glass on a counter behind the bar. “No more. You’ll thank me later. Caffeine headaches are a bitch, and I know how you girls are. When you gain five pounds, you’ll blame me.”
“Whatever.” So what if I gained weight? I was already the Duff, and the one guy I wanted to impress had a serious girlfriend. I could gain seventy pounds and be no worse off.
“Sorry, Bianca.” Joe moved to the other end of the bar, where Angela and her best friend, Vikki, waited to order drinks.
I drummed my fingers on the wooden surface of the bar, my mind far away from the music and strobe lights. Why hadn’t I insisted on staying home with Dad? Why hadn’t I just made him talk to me? I kept imagining him, wallowing in his misery… alone.