3 Willows: The Sisterhood Grows by Ann Brashares Page B

have the enchiladas verdes,” she pronounced. She ate a chip. She gave up her menu regretfully.
    After her father ordered and the waiter -went away, they were back in silence. Her father moved his silverware around and she realized she was holding her breath. She couldn’t figure out a way to swallow the chip.
    “Jo.”
    “Yes.”
    “I’d like to talk to you about something.”
    Here it came. She didn’t exactly want to give him permission for the talk, but she couldn’t get up and leave either.
    “It’s about your mother and I.”
    She chewed her chip. Me, she felt like saying. Your mother and me. If you were a top-top surgeon you should know that Iwas a subject and not an object. She’d only done her English homework about half the time. She wasn’t a top-top anything and even she knew that.
    He continued to line things up, including his place mat and water glass. “We are going to start—we’re starting a trial separation this summer.”
    She ate another chip. Maybe two would be easier to swallow than one.
    “Your mom is going to stay at the beach -with you, and I’m going to be here this summer.”
    “At this restaurant?” She wished she wasn’t saying it, even as she said it.
    “At home, Jo.”
    “Well, that doesn’t sound like a big change,” Jo said.
    He was patient, at least. That was his main good quality these days—not reacting to her, no matter how sassy she was.
    “As I said, it is a trial,” he continued, wiping his glasses down -with his napkin. For a moment she looked at his eyes without the barrier of his glasses. They were deeper, sadder eyes than she expected, and she looked away again. “We’ll revisit it in the fall. I’ll probably get an apartment near the house if that’s what we decide is necessary. Whatever happens, you’ll be able to stay in the house.”
    Was that what mattered to her? Jo wondered. Staying in the house? And anyway, who did the “deciding” about what was “necessary”? What did necessary mean? Her dad didn’t want to admit that what really mattered was what he wanted, not what he needed. He was trying to make it sound official, but it wasn’t official at all. It was what they -were choosing.
    “We’ll still see each other. There won’t be any big changes.”
    If we see each other, that will be a big change, she thought, but did not say.
    The food came. Jo carved her enchiladas up very carefully, trying to free the nice, neat pieces from the muck on her plate.
    “I get it,” she said casually. “That’s fine. No big changes. You won’t come to the beach. You may or may not get divorced from Mom.” She shrugged, but she did not eat.
    Jo wondered what her dad had in store, now that he was shaking off the wife and kid. How much had he yearned for this freedom? He was probably going to date the pretty young nurses at the hospital. A top-top surgeon -was always in demand. She’d end up being one of those girls whose stepmother -was barely older than she was. He’d have parties at the house—no, more likely he’d never be home. He’d sleep on the sofa in his office. He’d go to parties with the residents and wear embarrassing clothes and try to borrow songs off her iPod in an attempt to be cool.
    “I hope you’ll come home and have dinner -with me once a week this summer,” he said, in a voice different from the one he’d been using before.
    She put her napkin over her mouth and looked down at her lap. Not likely, she thought. And what would you do if I did? Would you cancel a surgery to see me? Would you really make it home from the hospital in time for dinner? The one thing this separation -would prove was that they were all separated already.
    She nodded. “Okay” she said. “No biggie. I’m sure nothing’s really going to change.”
    He nodded too. He looked frankly relieved by her reaction. He’d probably been terrified there would be tears and yelling. He’d probably dreaded that. He was probably thrilled to be off the