scalp I assumed was Christine’s.
She struggled to a sitting position, followed by Robot. Both looked annoyed and slightly bewildered.
“Really,” I said, holding up the phone.
Christine looked momentarily put out. Then she turned and pressed a finger to Robot’s lips. “Stifle,” I heard her mutter. Pushing her long, raven hair over her shoulders, she reached out and snatched the phone from my hand. “Yes, Mrs. McAllister?” she said, morphing into her goody-goody persona. Her face went placid and her voice turned sticky sweet, as if she’d just gargled with molasses. “Yes, ma’am. . . . Of course. . . . No, ma’am. No problems at all. . . . Oh, no. We would never do that. . . . Yes, ma’am . . . Right. . . . I understand. . . . You too. . . . Goodbye!”
She handed the receiver to me and rolled her eyes.
“Thanks,” I said, flashing her an apologetic look.
As she snuggled back up to Robot, I lifted the phone to my ear. “Mom?”
“Well, it’s good to hear you are behaving yourself so far. Your father sends his love. You take care, sweetie. I’ll call back soon.”
I don’t doubt it.
“Bye.”
“What the hell was that all about?” Robot asked as soon as I hung up.
“Her mom is making me spy on her,” Christine explained. “She calls me to make sure Katie has been a good girl.”
“She calls
you
?” Robot let out a roar of laughter. “That’s a good one!”
“Hey!” Christine thumped him playfully on the arm, but she was laughing too.
Feeling thoroughly stupid, I had no choice but to laugh along with them. I supposed it was a bizarre situation—but it wasn’t
that
funny. I mean, Mom was only doing this because she cared about me. What was wrong with that?
“God! How can you stand it?” Christine went on. “Do you have to check in with her, like, twelve times a day?” She pantomimed holding a phone to her ear and said in a meek little voice, “Mother, should I turn left or right? Do I want strawberry or chocolate? Should I breathe in or out?” She cackled at her own joke, Robot guffawing along with her.
My eyes teared up a little. She had no right to make fun of me that way. It wasn’t my fault my mom was doing this. I didn’t ask for it.
But it’s not like you ever ask Mom to stop either,
came a voice from inside me.
I stood there in a daze, feeling simultaneously mad, hurt and ashamed. I’d always known my mom was a little much. But until that moment I’d never really thought I might have some part in it—by going along with it all the time.
“I guess I should be glad my mom and dad never call,” Christine went on. “Which reminds me, I need to check my messages.” She leaped off the couch and fished a sleek BlackBerry out of her leather bag.
Her movement seemed to dislodge my emotional clog and snap me out of my trance. “I’m going to take a shower,” I announced, to no one in particular.
“Alright, love,” Robot said, flopping back against the cushions and shutting his eyes. “But don’t use all the hot water. I’m next.”
I wrinkled up my nose and headed for the bathroom. Just as I was turning the corner, Christine let out a little scream. “Oh my God!” she said, pointing to her cell. “He’s here! She’s here! They’ve got one for me!”
“One what?” I asked, interested in spite of myself.
“My wiener dog!” she exclaimed. “I just got an e-mail from the rescue league! And the dog’s a red one—just like I wanted!” She grabbed Robot’s shoulder and started shaking him. “Get up! You’ve got to come to the pound with me!”
“Christine! It’s the sodding crack of dawn!” he whined.
“It’s almost nine-thirty!”
“But I’m totally knackered, love. You know we had a late gig.”
“Don’t be such a wanker! I was up late too, you know!”
“But you weren’t on stage.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine! I’ll get someone else.”
I knew what would happen even before she swiveled around to face me,
She struggled to a sitting position, followed by Robot. Both looked annoyed and slightly bewildered.
“Really,” I said, holding up the phone.
Christine looked momentarily put out. Then she turned and pressed a finger to Robot’s lips. “Stifle,” I heard her mutter. Pushing her long, raven hair over her shoulders, she reached out and snatched the phone from my hand. “Yes, Mrs. McAllister?” she said, morphing into her goody-goody persona. Her face went placid and her voice turned sticky sweet, as if she’d just gargled with molasses. “Yes, ma’am. . . . Of course. . . . No, ma’am. No problems at all. . . . Oh, no. We would never do that. . . . Yes, ma’am . . . Right. . . . I understand. . . . You too. . . . Goodbye!”
She handed the receiver to me and rolled her eyes.
“Thanks,” I said, flashing her an apologetic look.
As she snuggled back up to Robot, I lifted the phone to my ear. “Mom?”
“Well, it’s good to hear you are behaving yourself so far. Your father sends his love. You take care, sweetie. I’ll call back soon.”
I don’t doubt it.
“Bye.”
“What the hell was that all about?” Robot asked as soon as I hung up.
“Her mom is making me spy on her,” Christine explained. “She calls me to make sure Katie has been a good girl.”
“She calls
you
?” Robot let out a roar of laughter. “That’s a good one!”
“Hey!” Christine thumped him playfully on the arm, but she was laughing too.
Feeling thoroughly stupid, I had no choice but to laugh along with them. I supposed it was a bizarre situation—but it wasn’t
that
funny. I mean, Mom was only doing this because she cared about me. What was wrong with that?
“God! How can you stand it?” Christine went on. “Do you have to check in with her, like, twelve times a day?” She pantomimed holding a phone to her ear and said in a meek little voice, “Mother, should I turn left or right? Do I want strawberry or chocolate? Should I breathe in or out?” She cackled at her own joke, Robot guffawing along with her.
My eyes teared up a little. She had no right to make fun of me that way. It wasn’t my fault my mom was doing this. I didn’t ask for it.
But it’s not like you ever ask Mom to stop either,
came a voice from inside me.
I stood there in a daze, feeling simultaneously mad, hurt and ashamed. I’d always known my mom was a little much. But until that moment I’d never really thought I might have some part in it—by going along with it all the time.
“I guess I should be glad my mom and dad never call,” Christine went on. “Which reminds me, I need to check my messages.” She leaped off the couch and fished a sleek BlackBerry out of her leather bag.
Her movement seemed to dislodge my emotional clog and snap me out of my trance. “I’m going to take a shower,” I announced, to no one in particular.
“Alright, love,” Robot said, flopping back against the cushions and shutting his eyes. “But don’t use all the hot water. I’m next.”
I wrinkled up my nose and headed for the bathroom. Just as I was turning the corner, Christine let out a little scream. “Oh my God!” she said, pointing to her cell. “He’s here! She’s here! They’ve got one for me!”
“One what?” I asked, interested in spite of myself.
“My wiener dog!” she exclaimed. “I just got an e-mail from the rescue league! And the dog’s a red one—just like I wanted!” She grabbed Robot’s shoulder and started shaking him. “Get up! You’ve got to come to the pound with me!”
“Christine! It’s the sodding crack of dawn!” he whined.
“It’s almost nine-thirty!”
“But I’m totally knackered, love. You know we had a late gig.”
“Don’t be such a wanker! I was up late too, you know!”
“But you weren’t on stage.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine! I’ll get someone else.”
I knew what would happen even before she swiveled around to face me,
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