my future. Everyone else can wallow in misery. I am a princess; my fairy tale has finally begun.
H ALEY ANSWERS THE PHONE ON THE THIRD RING . “H EY , stranger.”
“He asked me,” I tell her.
“Great. Congratulations,” she replies. “Who asked you what?”
“Julian. To the prom.”
“Are you serious? What happened? How? What's been going on with you guys? Is this why you've been so hard to get ahold of lately? I can't believe you didn't tell me. I can't believe this.”
“I did tell you. I mean, I
am
telling you. Nothing's been going on. I mean, he's been acting weird, but the prom thing kind of came outta nowhere.” I start to wonder how long it's been since I've talked to Haley about anything real, anythingimportant. Before I can stop myself I tell her, “My dad moved out.”
“Oh, Meems. Shit. I'm sorry. When? I wish I'd known. I would've come over or you could've come over here…to talk about it…or something.”
I am so tired of trying not to think about them or talk about them. I am tired of spending my life trying to figure out what happened to my parents and what I'm supposed to do about it, and hiding it from everyone so that when whatever is wrong is right again no one will be the wiser. I am tired of avoiding feeling sad by feeling numb. And I get cold inside when I think about talking about it. I want to talk about Julian and dresses and how pissed Kiki Nordgren will be when she finds out.
“I don't know,” I tell Haley. “I don't know what to say about it. I would have told you, but there was never really a good time to bring it up. It happened so fast, you know.”
I couldn't explain to Haley what had been happening because I didn't really know. I felt retarded for not telling her, and for having a messed-up family. And it's not like it happened all at once, either; it had been happening for a long time. But how do you tell your best friend that there are a million things you never said and that there will probably be a million more? If there are things I couldn't even admit to myself, how could I have told Haley about them, best friend or not? Realizing that, I wonder what I really know about Haley and her family—whether everyone keeps so much hidden.
Haley's dad sleeps in the living room on the couch, butsupposedly that's because he has really bad gas problems or something; it's nothing to do with the state of her parents' marriage.
“Hey, listen, I've gotta go now. My dad's here. We're all going out to dinner together,” I lie, to get off the phone.
“Well, call me when you get back. I want to talk to you.”
“I will. Bye.”
“See ya.”
Why is it that even when something great happens, the bad stuff taints it? Why can't I tell Haley about Julian without talking about my parents? Why can't I keep those things separate? I just need to be more careful, I guess. How can I ever feel happy if all the painful and sad things keep leaking into the good ones?
T WO YEARS AGO, WHEN WE WERE ON VACATION IN A RIZONA , my mom found out that a car auction was being held near our hotel. She's not really a car aficionado, but for some reason she fell in love with this car there, and when no one bid on it, she approached the owner as he was loading it onto the truck with the other cars that hadn't sold. She negotiated a price, bought it, and drove it back to the hotel to show us. Dad was livid, and he said it was because she hadn't discussed it with him first and she hadn't done any research on the car. Mom suggested that maybe he was angry because she had a vintage red Porsche and he didn't, which only made him angrier. They got like that sometimes. They clashed. They had such different ways of doing things. Usually they complemented each other: Mom's impulsiveness eased Dad's rigidness; Dad'scareful way of doing things saved some of Mom's not-so-well-thought-out plans from being total disasters. But sometimes, like with the car, they were both too stubborn to compromise, and the
H ALEY ANSWERS THE PHONE ON THE THIRD RING . “H EY , stranger.”
“He asked me,” I tell her.
“Great. Congratulations,” she replies. “Who asked you what?”
“Julian. To the prom.”
“Are you serious? What happened? How? What's been going on with you guys? Is this why you've been so hard to get ahold of lately? I can't believe you didn't tell me. I can't believe this.”
“I did tell you. I mean, I
am
telling you. Nothing's been going on. I mean, he's been acting weird, but the prom thing kind of came outta nowhere.” I start to wonder how long it's been since I've talked to Haley about anything real, anythingimportant. Before I can stop myself I tell her, “My dad moved out.”
“Oh, Meems. Shit. I'm sorry. When? I wish I'd known. I would've come over or you could've come over here…to talk about it…or something.”
I am so tired of trying not to think about them or talk about them. I am tired of spending my life trying to figure out what happened to my parents and what I'm supposed to do about it, and hiding it from everyone so that when whatever is wrong is right again no one will be the wiser. I am tired of avoiding feeling sad by feeling numb. And I get cold inside when I think about talking about it. I want to talk about Julian and dresses and how pissed Kiki Nordgren will be when she finds out.
“I don't know,” I tell Haley. “I don't know what to say about it. I would have told you, but there was never really a good time to bring it up. It happened so fast, you know.”
I couldn't explain to Haley what had been happening because I didn't really know. I felt retarded for not telling her, and for having a messed-up family. And it's not like it happened all at once, either; it had been happening for a long time. But how do you tell your best friend that there are a million things you never said and that there will probably be a million more? If there are things I couldn't even admit to myself, how could I have told Haley about them, best friend or not? Realizing that, I wonder what I really know about Haley and her family—whether everyone keeps so much hidden.
Haley's dad sleeps in the living room on the couch, butsupposedly that's because he has really bad gas problems or something; it's nothing to do with the state of her parents' marriage.
“Hey, listen, I've gotta go now. My dad's here. We're all going out to dinner together,” I lie, to get off the phone.
“Well, call me when you get back. I want to talk to you.”
“I will. Bye.”
“See ya.”
Why is it that even when something great happens, the bad stuff taints it? Why can't I tell Haley about Julian without talking about my parents? Why can't I keep those things separate? I just need to be more careful, I guess. How can I ever feel happy if all the painful and sad things keep leaking into the good ones?
T WO YEARS AGO, WHEN WE WERE ON VACATION IN A RIZONA , my mom found out that a car auction was being held near our hotel. She's not really a car aficionado, but for some reason she fell in love with this car there, and when no one bid on it, she approached the owner as he was loading it onto the truck with the other cars that hadn't sold. She negotiated a price, bought it, and drove it back to the hotel to show us. Dad was livid, and he said it was because she hadn't discussed it with him first and she hadn't done any research on the car. Mom suggested that maybe he was angry because she had a vintage red Porsche and he didn't, which only made him angrier. They got like that sometimes. They clashed. They had such different ways of doing things. Usually they complemented each other: Mom's impulsiveness eased Dad's rigidness; Dad'scareful way of doing things saved some of Mom's not-so-well-thought-out plans from being total disasters. But sometimes, like with the car, they were both too stubborn to compromise, and the
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