Dinner went by without a hitch. We all carefully avoided the subject. Even the boys seemed to know to stay away from the subject of their daddy. I ate as much as I could, but it wasn’t very much. Normally Mom would have noticed, but she was just about as hungry as I was.
After dinner the boys went back outside to play accompanied by Enid, Emma, Egan, and Dad while Mom and I did the dishes. I looked out the back door as I dried a plate. Dad, Emma, Egan, and Gus started a game of basketball while Enid pushed Cashel on my tire swing.
The phone rang as I was putting a stack of plates in the cabinet.
“Can you get it?” Mom asked, up to her elbows in soapy water.
I ran to the hall and grabbed the cordless on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Riki! How’s it goin’?” The last voice I wanted to hear came through the phone, loud and clear as usual.
“Um—hi, Elton.”
“Is something wrong?”
I knew he’d be able to tell by my voice. I did not want to be the one to tell him. How would I? How did I get out of it?
“Do you wanna talk to Mom?” I asked.
“No. I wanna talk to you. Spill, Rik. What’s goin’ on?”
“It’s—it’s pretty big,” I stammered.
“For pete’s sake, Erika, just tell me,” he was beginning to sound slightly impatient.
“Who is it?” Mom came through the doorway, wiping her hands.
“Here’s Mom—” I shoved the phone at her and went into the kitchen before either could protest. “I’ll finish the dishes,” I called over my shoulder.
Only when I put my hands into the dishwater did I realize they were shaking. I knew Elton got annoyed that I wouldn’t talk to him—he used to get jealous of Smith sometimes.
I cringed—the “used to” sent a knife through my heart.
Mom had finished most of the dishes, only the pots and pans were left. I went through them quickly but thoroughly, running on adrenaline. Just as I put away the last pot, Mom came back into the kitchen with fresh tears on her face.
To my horror, she held out the phone to me.
“He wants to talk to you,” she said.
Unable to say no, I took it from her.
“Yeah?” I said slowly.
It took him a minute to say anything, and when he did, his voice was raw with pain.
“I am so sorry, Riki. I was being a jerk. I know this must be really hard for you especially because of Smith. I know you only talk to him, but if you need to talk, I’m here to listen, okay? Will you at least consider it?”
The lump in my throat only allowed me to whisper, “Okay,” but he heard and that’s all he needed. I handed the phone back to my mom. I wanted to run, but there was nowhere to run to—Cashel still sat in the tire swing and Emma’s presence hovered in my room.
I retreated to the living room and turned on the television.
A lot of my friends at school had their own TV’s in their rooms, but we only had one in our house. Mom and Dad said that’s all we needed. I knew I wouldn’t be alone for long. Sure enough, Dad came through the door within five minutes. I was still flipping through channels, unable even to concentrate on what shows were on.
“Whatcha watchin’, sweet pea?” he asked.
“Nuthin’.”
He sat down in the recliner with a sigh. He still wore his dress pants, but he’d taken off his dress shirt and now wore only his untucked white T-shirt.
“Why don’t ya’ turn it to the news?”
I turned it to NBC, which I knew was his favorite station for news, and tossed the remote on the coffee table. I kicked my sneakers off and tucked my feet underneath me. I stared at the television, unseeing. I was grateful for my Dad’s normalcy, but it confused me. How could he be acting like nothing was wrong? This was a pretty big thing, wasn’t it?
Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Smith and Enid just needed a little time apart. Maybe we emotional girls were blowing this out of proportion.
But what if we weren’t?
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