luck that we didn’t have any classes together, probably due to last year’s bad grades.
I saw her come through the auditorium with another girl during study period, putting up posters for the Valentine’s Day dance. I tried not to go around acting like she was invisible to me, but I couldn’t let her catch me staring at her either. Especially now.
I was nearly the last one to get on the bus to go home. All the seats near Patsy were taken, if you counted the seat next to her, where she’d set her books down to save a place for someone.
I took a seat near the back. The Wall got the seat next to Patsy, and I spat mental spitballs at him for the rest of the trip.
Dad called that evening. I really needed his advice, but I wasn’t ready to make a full confession.
While I was ruling out conversational topics, he asked, “How’s your mom doing?” He meant to slip it in casually, just an ordinary family question. If it was so easy, I wished he’d just ask her. “I don’t mean to pry, Vinnie,” he said as the silence drew out. “I just wanted to hear her life is working out the way she wants it to.”
I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see that. “She goes to work. She comes home. She hangs around the house on her days off. That’s what she wanted, isn’t it?”
“Vinnie,” Dad said. I was making him uncomfortable, sounding so bugged. “It’s bad?”
“Mr. B isn’t bad. Mom isn’t bad, either. It’s just not the same as coming home to you.”
“Why haven’t you said something before?”
“I don’t know. It’s just getting to me lately.”
“Why don’t you talk it over with your mom? I’ll take a weekend off—”
“No, no. Easter vacation is only a couple of months away. I’ll come in then to stay the week.”
I didn’t want to say that Mom had some things to sort out with Mr. B. It seemed strange to think of this as a responsibility I had, to hang around the house, but it felt like one. Not only because I had to live with Mr. B, but because Mom had to. I didn’t want to be worried about her when I went off to college. I didn’t want to worry about Mr. B, either.
I didn’t want to say that to Dad. It left us with an odd silence that we didn’t quite know what to do with. But Dad came through. “Hey, I’ll come out tomorrow and we’ll go pick up a tank.”
We’d discovered a neat little aquarium shop at the mall. Forget “little.” This store saw more action than the shoe department at Bloomingdale’s. We had plans to buy a fifty-gallon tank and a setup. We’d had a great fish tank for years, most of my childhood. Up until I dropped a sun-dried sand dollar into the water, thinking it would look nice on the colored gravel.
The sand dollar introduced some kind of bacteria that killed the fish. It also ruined the pumps and filters, and we never could get the tank clean enough to support fish again.We finally gave up. But after a stroll through that store, I’d gotten all charged up about trying again.
Plus, it could fill in for a required science project.
“That would be great.” Not just the tank. Maybe I’d get up my nerve and tell him about Patsy. Maybe.
“Not too early,” Dad said. “I’ll be working late tonight. I’ll pick up the taxi again at noon. Say one-thirty or so? Stop at a diner for something to eat after the mall.”
“I’ll be outside,” I said, like it was just eagerness. Like I wasn’t always outside waiting when he came by to pick me up. That way he didn’t have to come inside, see Mom in her harvest-gold kitchen.
Patsy sat low in the bleachers with Biff, wearing her peacoat. I sat higher up, with Mom, where I had a good view. The game started off with ordinary plays, fuchsia pink versus purple, and the first couple of runs and pileups looked pretty serious.
The third play was interrupted by cancan music. The teams stopped running and started dancing. People in the stands—parents didn’t know what the girls were up to this
I saw her come through the auditorium with another girl during study period, putting up posters for the Valentine’s Day dance. I tried not to go around acting like she was invisible to me, but I couldn’t let her catch me staring at her either. Especially now.
I was nearly the last one to get on the bus to go home. All the seats near Patsy were taken, if you counted the seat next to her, where she’d set her books down to save a place for someone.
I took a seat near the back. The Wall got the seat next to Patsy, and I spat mental spitballs at him for the rest of the trip.
Dad called that evening. I really needed his advice, but I wasn’t ready to make a full confession.
While I was ruling out conversational topics, he asked, “How’s your mom doing?” He meant to slip it in casually, just an ordinary family question. If it was so easy, I wished he’d just ask her. “I don’t mean to pry, Vinnie,” he said as the silence drew out. “I just wanted to hear her life is working out the way she wants it to.”
I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see that. “She goes to work. She comes home. She hangs around the house on her days off. That’s what she wanted, isn’t it?”
“Vinnie,” Dad said. I was making him uncomfortable, sounding so bugged. “It’s bad?”
“Mr. B isn’t bad. Mom isn’t bad, either. It’s just not the same as coming home to you.”
“Why haven’t you said something before?”
“I don’t know. It’s just getting to me lately.”
“Why don’t you talk it over with your mom? I’ll take a weekend off—”
“No, no. Easter vacation is only a couple of months away. I’ll come in then to stay the week.”
I didn’t want to say that Mom had some things to sort out with Mr. B. It seemed strange to think of this as a responsibility I had, to hang around the house, but it felt like one. Not only because I had to live with Mr. B, but because Mom had to. I didn’t want to be worried about her when I went off to college. I didn’t want to worry about Mr. B, either.
I didn’t want to say that to Dad. It left us with an odd silence that we didn’t quite know what to do with. But Dad came through. “Hey, I’ll come out tomorrow and we’ll go pick up a tank.”
We’d discovered a neat little aquarium shop at the mall. Forget “little.” This store saw more action than the shoe department at Bloomingdale’s. We had plans to buy a fifty-gallon tank and a setup. We’d had a great fish tank for years, most of my childhood. Up until I dropped a sun-dried sand dollar into the water, thinking it would look nice on the colored gravel.
The sand dollar introduced some kind of bacteria that killed the fish. It also ruined the pumps and filters, and we never could get the tank clean enough to support fish again.We finally gave up. But after a stroll through that store, I’d gotten all charged up about trying again.
Plus, it could fill in for a required science project.
“That would be great.” Not just the tank. Maybe I’d get up my nerve and tell him about Patsy. Maybe.
“Not too early,” Dad said. “I’ll be working late tonight. I’ll pick up the taxi again at noon. Say one-thirty or so? Stop at a diner for something to eat after the mall.”
“I’ll be outside,” I said, like it was just eagerness. Like I wasn’t always outside waiting when he came by to pick me up. That way he didn’t have to come inside, see Mom in her harvest-gold kitchen.
Patsy sat low in the bleachers with Biff, wearing her peacoat. I sat higher up, with Mom, where I had a good view. The game started off with ordinary plays, fuchsia pink versus purple, and the first couple of runs and pileups looked pretty serious.
The third play was interrupted by cancan music. The teams stopped running and started dancing. People in the stands—parents didn’t know what the girls were up to this
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