Page 7

“I would have changed it,” he said, neither of us believing him. He pulled a light bulb out of a box on a shelf and left. After I turned out the lights, the overwhelming darkness was a relief. I didn’t have to look at my old life anymore.

When I got back to the kitchen, Jim was at the table going over one of his files. I whispered, “Gia told me that Jason’s taking her to a horror movie this weekend.”

“Okay.”

“Not okay. You know she doesn’t like horror movies.”

“If she really didn’t want to go, she wouldn’t go,” he said, his nose still in his file.

“She thinks he’ll stop liking her if she doesn’t. That isn’t the way to be in a relationship.”

He opened the refrigerator, grabbed the orange juice, and took a swig out of the bottle. “She’s smart and knows her own mind. She gets good grades, she’s not anorexic, and she’s not on drugs. She’ll be fine.”

“I think she’s in over her head.”

“I think you’re overreacting.”

I could feel my blood pressure rising. “What if she gets hurt?”

“Then we’ll be there.” He took another swig out of the orange juice bottle.

“What if she ends up pregnant?” I asked.

“What are you talking about? She’s going to a horror movie, and unless it’sRosemary’s Baby, I think we’re on safe ground.”

I didn’t know if I was more upset by his attitude or the way he drank orange juice right out of the bottle. Maybe I was being irrational, but he should still support me. He put the juice back, leaving the refrigerator door open.

“At least she has one parent who cares,” I said, slamming the refrigerator door shut with gusto.

“This is a ridiculous argument,” he said calmly and walked off, leaving me fuming. Whenever he walked out on me without finishing our conversation, I turned into a three-year-old who wanted to go hit him. And now I was left standing in my kitchen, just me and the dog. Theo looked up at me, seeming to understand what a big deal this was. He was the only sensible male in this house, I thought, until he tripped on his own ears and collided into the cabinet.

CHAPTER 3

The tapping of the rain pelting the windows got louder and louder until it reached a crescendo, and then it got softer for a few minutes. The best thing about a rainy Sunday morning was to curl up on the couch under an afghan with a cup of coffee. What could be more peaceful?

“Mom, did you wash my new shirts?” Gia yelled loudly from upstairs.

Peace and teenage girls did not go hand in hand. “They’re in your closet,” I yelled back. I pulled the afghan over my head and reached my arm out to put my coffee cup on the table. The phone rang, but I let it go to voicemail. It was my quiet Sunday morning, and I didn’t want to hear what my mom had for dinner last night.

“Hey,” Jim said, coming into the living room.

“Hey,” I said from underneath the afghan. He walked out without saying another word. When you’ve been married as long as we have, your spouse either doesn’t question why you’re hiding under a blanket or doesn’t notice. I’d like to think it’s the former.

A loud honking came from outside. Who the heck was outside our house at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning? I threw the afghan off my head and jumped off the couch, but before I could get to the window, Gia came flying into the room. “It’s for me.”

“Jason could come in. We’ve never met him,” I said, knowing her other friends would’ve knocked on the door.

“Not today.”

“You let me meet your last boyfriend.”

“I was thirteen. I needed you to drive us to the movies.”

“Why are you cutting me out of your life?”

“Mom, you’re being ridiculous.”

“You used to tell me everything.”