Letters from the Heart by Annie Bryant Page B

floor. Chicken and ketchup splattered everywhere.
    Maeve started. Sam never yelled, and he never threw stuff. Certainly not plates. But surprisingly, her mother didn’t even look mad.
    â€œOh, Sammy,” she said, taking him in her arms. She had tears in her eyes. Nobody even got up to sweep the broken bits of plate.
    Maeve wished she were eight, like Sam, and could throw something, too. But she wasn’t. She was almost thirteen and had to act rational, even though it felt like her whole world was collapsing. Why did everything have to be so confusing?
    Her mother was smoothing Sam’s hair and talking in that voice she used when she was in planning mode. She sounded upset, but calmer. Maeve heard only bits and pieces. “Too much tension in the house lately”…“need some time apart”…“going to be better for you guys not to have so much arguing in the house.”
    â€œI don’t see how it’s going to be better for us,” Maeve managed to gasp.
    â€œWell, it may not be for anyone at first,” her father admitted. “There’s going to be a lot to get used to. But we’re hoping that in the long run it’ll be better. Your mom and I think we need to do this now. Remember, we’re still your mom and dad, and we still love you. Even though we think we need to separate.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, separate ?” Maeve demanded, suddenly realizing that this was going to have a huge impact on her and Sam. “What happens to US?”
    â€œWe talked about that,” her mother said quickly, still stroking Sam’s hair. She glanced across the table at Maeve’s father. “Your dad’s found a place in Washington Square…it’s only a little more than a mile away, and you can take the trolley…”
    Maeve felt bewildered. “You can’t move out,” she said, turning toward her father. She was so confused. Her dad lived here—with Sam and her. And Mom! This was home. None of this made any sense. “When?” she asked dully. “When’s all of this supposed to happen?”
    Her dad looked awkward. “Next weekend,” he said at last. “We wanted to give you a little while to get used to the idea. But we didn’t want it hanging over your heads for weeks, either. It’s a big change, but making it happen sooner…well, we thought that might be easier.”
    â€œNext—” Maeve was aghast. She hadn’t dreamed this could all happen so fast. “But what about my awards ceremony?” she demanded. “THAT’S next weekend! You can’t split up now! Not when I’ve actually been nominated for something!”
    Her parents looked at each other. “We’ll still come,” her mother said. “We’ll both be there for you, Maeve. Just like we promised.”
    She barely heard what her parents were saying. It appeared that she and Sam would have “schedules.” They’d stay at home with Mom during the week, and every other weekend they’d spend at Dad’s. But because Dad would still be running the cinema, he’d be downstairs every day after school. They’d spend every afternoon together. And that would be a big help, because their mom had decided to go back to work part-time.
    â€œWork?” Maeve repeated blankly. Okay, she thought, just keep throwing this stuff out at us. What was coming next?
    Her mother actually looked happy when she talked about this part. She’d wanted to do this for a long time. She’d always been interested in business—she loved helping to run the cinema. And there was a company in Brookline that needed a part-time office manager/bookkeeper. She’d had her second interview this afternoon, and they’d offered her the job.
    â€œYou know how much I love organizing things,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I think I may actually be kind of good at this.” She