Even if you don’t, I know you can see my number in your missed calls. Call me back, okay?”
___
“Dad. Call me. Or call Wren. No, call me. I’m worried about you. I don’t like worrying about you.”
___
“Don’t make me call the neighbors. They’ll come check on you, and you don’t speak any Spanish, and it’ll be embarrassing.”
___
“Dad?”
“Hey, Cath.”
“ Dad. Why haven’t you called me? I left you a million messages.”
“You left me too many messages. You shouldn’t be calling me or even thinking about me. You’re in college now. Move on.”
“It’s just school, Dad. It’s not like we have irreconcilable differences.”
“Honey, I’ve watched a lot of 90210. The parents weren’t even on the show once Brandon and Brenda went to college. This is your time—you’re supposed to be going to frat parties and getting back together with Dylan.”
“Why does everybody want me to go to frat parties?”
“Who wants you to go to frat parties? I was just kidding. Don’t hang out with frat guys, Cath, they’re terrible. All they do is get drunk and watch 90210. ”
“Dad, how are you?”
“I’m fine, honey.”
“Are you lonely?”
“Yes.”
“Are you eating?”
“Yes.”
“What are you eating?”
“Nutritious food.”
“What did you eat today? No lying. ”
“Something ingenious I discovered at QuikTrip: It’s a sausage wrapped in a pancake, then cooked to perfection on a hot dog roller—”
“Dad.”
“Come on, Cath, you told me not to lie.”
“Could you just go to the grocery store or something?”
“You know I hate the grocery store.”
“They sell fruit at QuikTrip.”
“They do?”
“Yes. Ask somebody.”
“You know I hate to ask somebodies.”
“You’re making me worry about you.”
“Don’t worry about me, Cath. I’ll look for the fruit.”
“That is such a lame concession.…”
“Fine, I’ll go the grocery store.”
“ No lying —promise?”
“I promise.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. Tell your sister I love her.”
___
“Cath, it’s your dad. I know it’s late, and you’re probably asleep. I hope you’re asleep! But I had this idea. It’s a great idea. Call me.”
___
“Cath? It’s your dad again. It’s still late, but I couldn’t wait to tell you this. You know how you guys want a bathroom upstairs? Your room is right over the bathroom. We could put in a trapdoor. And a ladder. It would be like a secret shortcut to the bathroom. Isn’t this a great idea? Call me. It’s your dad.”
___
“Cath! Not a ladder—a fireman’s pole! You’d still have to use the stairs to get up to your room—but, Cath, a fireman’s pole. I think I can do this myself. I mean, I’ll have to find a pole.…”
___
“Dad? Call me.”
___
“Call me, okay?”
___
“Dad, it’s Cath. Call me.”
* * *
It was Friday night, and Cath had the dorm room to herself.
She was trying to work on Carry On, Simon, but her mind kept wandering.… Today in class, Professor Piper had handed back the story that she and Nick wrote together. The professor had filled the margins with A ’s and drawn a little caricature of herself in the corner, shouting, “AAAAAA!”
She had a few of the writing teams—the people who had done really well—read their stories out loud in class. Cath and Nick went last, trading paragraphs so they were always reading what the other person had written. They got tons of laughs. Probably because Nick acted like he was doing Shakespeare in the park. Cath’s cheeks and neck were burning by the time they sat down.
After class, Nick held up his pinkie to her. When she stared at it, he said, “Come on, we’re making an oath.”
She curled her finger around his, and he squeezed it. “Partners, automatically, any time we need one—deal?” His eyes were set so deep, it made everything he said more intense.
“Deal,” Cath said, looking away.
“Goddamn,” Nick said, his hand
___
“Dad. Call me. Or call Wren. No, call me. I’m worried about you. I don’t like worrying about you.”
___
“Don’t make me call the neighbors. They’ll come check on you, and you don’t speak any Spanish, and it’ll be embarrassing.”
___
“Dad?”
“Hey, Cath.”
“ Dad. Why haven’t you called me? I left you a million messages.”
“You left me too many messages. You shouldn’t be calling me or even thinking about me. You’re in college now. Move on.”
“It’s just school, Dad. It’s not like we have irreconcilable differences.”
“Honey, I’ve watched a lot of 90210. The parents weren’t even on the show once Brandon and Brenda went to college. This is your time—you’re supposed to be going to frat parties and getting back together with Dylan.”
“Why does everybody want me to go to frat parties?”
“Who wants you to go to frat parties? I was just kidding. Don’t hang out with frat guys, Cath, they’re terrible. All they do is get drunk and watch 90210. ”
“Dad, how are you?”
“I’m fine, honey.”
“Are you lonely?”
“Yes.”
“Are you eating?”
“Yes.”
“What are you eating?”
“Nutritious food.”
“What did you eat today? No lying. ”
“Something ingenious I discovered at QuikTrip: It’s a sausage wrapped in a pancake, then cooked to perfection on a hot dog roller—”
“Dad.”
“Come on, Cath, you told me not to lie.”
“Could you just go to the grocery store or something?”
“You know I hate the grocery store.”
“They sell fruit at QuikTrip.”
“They do?”
“Yes. Ask somebody.”
“You know I hate to ask somebodies.”
“You’re making me worry about you.”
“Don’t worry about me, Cath. I’ll look for the fruit.”
“That is such a lame concession.…”
“Fine, I’ll go the grocery store.”
“ No lying —promise?”
“I promise.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. Tell your sister I love her.”
___
“Cath, it’s your dad. I know it’s late, and you’re probably asleep. I hope you’re asleep! But I had this idea. It’s a great idea. Call me.”
___
“Cath? It’s your dad again. It’s still late, but I couldn’t wait to tell you this. You know how you guys want a bathroom upstairs? Your room is right over the bathroom. We could put in a trapdoor. And a ladder. It would be like a secret shortcut to the bathroom. Isn’t this a great idea? Call me. It’s your dad.”
___
“Cath! Not a ladder—a fireman’s pole! You’d still have to use the stairs to get up to your room—but, Cath, a fireman’s pole. I think I can do this myself. I mean, I’ll have to find a pole.…”
___
“Dad? Call me.”
___
“Call me, okay?”
___
“Dad, it’s Cath. Call me.”
* * *
It was Friday night, and Cath had the dorm room to herself.
She was trying to work on Carry On, Simon, but her mind kept wandering.… Today in class, Professor Piper had handed back the story that she and Nick wrote together. The professor had filled the margins with A ’s and drawn a little caricature of herself in the corner, shouting, “AAAAAA!”
She had a few of the writing teams—the people who had done really well—read their stories out loud in class. Cath and Nick went last, trading paragraphs so they were always reading what the other person had written. They got tons of laughs. Probably because Nick acted like he was doing Shakespeare in the park. Cath’s cheeks and neck were burning by the time they sat down.
After class, Nick held up his pinkie to her. When she stared at it, he said, “Come on, we’re making an oath.”
She curled her finger around his, and he squeezed it. “Partners, automatically, any time we need one—deal?” His eyes were set so deep, it made everything he said more intense.
“Deal,” Cath said, looking away.
“Goddamn,” Nick said, his hand
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