Letters from the Heart by Annie Bryant Page A

early Saturday evening. The four of them were alone together in the kitchen. Maeve had to admit that the subdued atmosphere didn’t suggest that it was going to be great news.
    Maeve’s mother was nervous. She wasn’t looking any of them in the eye. She kept piling pieces of chicken up on Sam’s plate, even when he said that he had plenty. And she poured chocolate milk in Maeve’s dad’s wineglass! She had this faraway expression on her face, and she wasn’t even listening to Sam. That wasn’t like her—Maeve’s mom always paid attention when they talked.
    â€œRoss,” she said, looking at Maeve’s father.
    Maeve followed her gaze. What was wrong with her father? He looked pale, and he hadn’t eaten a single bite of his dinner.
    â€œGo ahead,” he said quietly. It sounded like they’d rehearsed this.
    Maeve’s mom put her fork down. “Listen, you two,” she said. Both Maeve and Sam looked at her intently. “Your dad and I need to talk to you about something. We know this is going to be hard for you two to hear, but…” Her voice trailed off.
    Maeve’s mouth felt dry. What was it?
    Sam gazed at his mother, his eyes fixed on hers. “Are you sick or something?” he demanded. “You look kinda funny, Mom.”
    Maeve’s mother shook her head. “No. I’m fine, Sam.” She took a deep breath. “You know, parents can have problems, too. Just like kids. And Dad and I—” She looked across the table at Maeve’s father. “You’ve probably noticed that there’s been a lot of tension between Dad and me lately. We’re not entirely sure why. But lately, all we seem to do is argue. We still love each other,” she added quickly. “But things have changed—we love each other in a different way now. So even though we’re always going to be very close friends, we think we need some time apart. That’s why…”
    Her voice trailed off and she didn’t say anything. Maeve felt like her ears were burning. This was the last thing in the world she’d expected to hear. Everyone said she had the perfect family. Okay, her parents had arguments. They’d always had—for as long as she could remember. So maybe they’d been worse lately. Maeve’s stomach churned. They’d been arguing a lot about HER, to be honest. About her bad grades. About her organizational problems. Even about the blanket project. She knew they’d been getting upset with each other…but arguing—that wasn’t the end of the world, was it? Didn’t all parents do that? Couldn’t they just make up, the way they always had?
    Maeve wasn’t sure she wanted to hear any more. “I’mnot very hungry,” she said, pushing her plate away. She half-hoped that this would put an end to the discussion right away.
    But her mother kept going. “Maeve, Sam. Your father and I think that it makes sense for us to separate,” she said finally.
    â€œFor a while,” Maeve’s father added. His voice was calm and steady, the way it always was. He explained that this wasn’t necessarily permanent. They needed some time apart, and in a month or two they would reevaluate. Sometimes parents needed time to be alone, just the way kids did when they weren’t getting along. The most important thing, he added, was that they still loved Maeve and Sam—more than anything in the world. “Mom and I are going to work together as a team. We’re going to try hard to make this okay for you guys.”
    Maeve was stunned. Her parents might just as well have just announced that they’d decided to move to Mars. She had no idea what to say.
    But Sam did. “This is stupid!” he screamed, at nobody in particular. And as if for good measure, he threw his plate across the room. It bounced off the counter and crashed to the ground, shattering on the tile