It’s Dad’s face that does it. He’s got crow’s-feet around his eyes and laugh lines around his mouth that are so dark you’d think they were drawn on with a Sharpie—but it’s still a kid’s face. There’s something twinkly about it. He always looks as if he can hardly wait to find out what’s coming next.
Mom’s wrinkles go straight down her forehead, right between her eyes. You’d never call them laugh lines. They’re from frowning or worrying or trying really hard not to totally lose it.
How did two people that different ever get together?
I look at Dad. He’s holding his fist like a microphone and singing, “Ooh, baby, baby, yeah!” The sun makes his eyes look almost as blue as the car. He winks at me, as if I’m the girl he’s singing about.
That’s when it hits me: Mom and Dad aren’t getting back together. The funny thing is, right then, it doesn’t even make me sad. It just kind of makes sense. It’s like what Colin said. “It’s not the end of the world.” In fact—it might even turn out to be best for everyone.
All we have to do is tweak the plan a bit.
Instead of Elliot and me moving into Mom’s new condo with her, we’ll move in with Dad.
Just thinking that makes my mouth stretch into this big lotto-prizewinner grin. I clap my hands over my face. I feel guilty but really, really happy too.
I throw my arms up in the air and let the wind bat them around. It’s the perfect solution. Dad can afford us. Mom can’t. He loves having us. She’s too tired after work to even notice us. We won’t have to leave our neighborhood. She can get as far away from it as she wants.
There are a few details that we still have to work out, of course. Dad’s apartment is too small for all of us to live there, so we’d have to buy a new place. I’m not much of a housekeeper, so hopefully Manuela isn’t mad at Mom for firing her. If she came back to do the cleaning and help with Elliot after school, I could learn how to cook.
I laugh.
Who needs to cook? Dad never says no to going to a restaurant.
In fact, right at this very moment, he’s steering Colin toward The Chicken Burger. I’m a little worried that we won’t get back in time for the next period, but Dad insists. “What’s the matter with you kids? You can’t cruise around in a 1962 convertible and not stop for malted milkshakes!”
The Chicken Burger is packed—and everybody, it seems, wants to check out the LeSabre. While Dad chats them up, I reach over and squeeze Colin’s hand. He’s got gorgeous hands. Athlete’s hands. They’re big and sinewy, and I love the way the blond hairs stand out against his tan.
I just thought of another thing that makes my new plan so great. Dad has much more liberal ideas about young love than Mom does.
Colin doesn’t know that’s what I’m
thinking, but he can see I’m happy, and that makes him happy too,
which makes me even happier. I take a slurp of my milkshake. I
don’t care that it’s got 80,000 empty calories. Everything is
different now. Everything is going to be all right.
We get back to school with only minutes to spare before the bell rings. I’m dying to talk to Dad right now about my plan, but there won’t be time. That’s okay. It can wait until tomorrow. Elliot and I are staying at his place this weekend. We’ll work it all out then.
Tim/Tom gives Dad a man hug and heads into class. Colin goes to hand back the keys, but Dad pushes them away.
“I’ll make you a deal, Moose. You can keep the car for the weekend if I can have my little girl alone for a couple of minutes now. Whaddya say?”
Colin has that stunned look on his face again. Dad laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes. Now git! Tell your teacher Ria’s on her way.”
Colin “gits.” Dad and I lean against the car and watch him go. Even from behind, you can tell he’s grinning his face off. It totally cracks us up.
Dad puts his arm around me. “Listen,” he says. “I’ve got something I need to talk to you about. There’s going to be a little change in plans.”
For half a second, I wonder if he has the same idea I do. I try not to look too hopeful.
“I won’t be able to see you and Elliot this weekend.”
“What?” I feel like he just punched me.
Dad pulls his face back in surprise. It’s not as if it’s the first time he’s had to make new arrangements.
“Oh, sorry, sweetie! I have to meet a bunch of investors up north to talk about one of our projects. Believe me, I tried to change it, but it’s the only time everyone can get together.”
I look away. My breathing has gone shallow and stuttery. I try to act like I’m fine, but I can’t. I need to see Dad this weekend. I need to talk to him about my plan. I suddenly can’t stand living with Mom anymore.
“Can I come?” I say. I sound all chipper and fake. Desperation is so embarrassing.
“Aw, honey, you’d hate it. I’m going to some cold little lake in the middle of nowhere. You’d go crazy. There’re no shops, no Internet, no cell-phone coverage…”
I know he’s making a joke, but I say, “I don’t care! Please…please!”
He puts up his hand and says, “Nope. Sorry.”
I get this quivery little smile on my face. Dad goes, “Oooh, sweetie pie,” as if I’m four and just got a boo-boo on my knee.
“Ria. You know I’d take you if I could—but I can’t. I’ve rented a little two-seater plane, and I’m flying it up myself.”
“So what’s the problem?” I say. “Two seats. One for you. One for me.”
He looks at me like I’m missing something obvious. “My point is—I can’t fly a plane and clean up your vomit at the same time.”
There’s nothing I can say to that. He’s right. The motion sickness would kill me.
My eyes start filling up with tears, and my smile gets shakier and shakier. I can’t believe I’m making such a fool of myself.
Dad squeezes me. “And…,” he says.
“And…,” he says again, waiting until I pull myself together, “there’s another reason you can’t go.”
I wipe my nose with the tip of my fingers and say in the most mature voice I can, “Oh? What would that be?”
He pulls an envelope out of his pocket. “I’ve got four tickets for the Chaos of Peace concert this weekend.”
I laugh even though there are still tears running down my face. “Dad! How did you get those? They were totally sold out!”
He wags his finger at me. “I never divulge my sources…”
The bell rings. I go to grab the tickets, but he jerks them away. “Ah-ah-ah. Sorry. These come with a couple of strings attached, I’m afraid.”
This is so not like Dad it almost scares me. What other crap is going to land on me now?
“One,” he says. “No more tears. We Pattersons pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off and get ready for the next party. Okay?”
I nod. As crap goes, that wasn’t so bad.
“And the other string?” I say.
“Two of the tickets are for your mom and Elliot.”
Is he crazy? Elliot’s too young to go the concert, and Mom’s too mad. Hasn’t he learned? Even just offering her the tickets is going to piss her off.
But I don’t argue. I’m dying to go to the concert. I say, “Yeah, sure,” and try to make it sound like it’s a great idea.
Dad isn’t falling for that. He looks straight at me for a couple of seconds, then sighs. “She’s a good woman, Ria. She just has a lot on her plate at the moment. We’ve all got to give her a break.”
I get up my courage. “Dad, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about…”
The second bell rings. I only have a minute. I don’t know where to start. I fumble around. “You know… I…well…”
Dad puts his hands on my shoulders. “Hold that thought. You’re late already, and Colin’s good looks will only distract the teacher for so long. Why don’t I book a table for two Monday night at Da Maurizio’s, and you can tell me all about it then? Deal?”
Dad and his deals.
“Sure. I’d like that.” I’m trying too hard to be brave, and it shows.
He musses up my hair, then gives me a hug. He hugs me so hard, I can hear a little bone in my shoulder squeak.
I head into class. The last I see of him, Dad’s got his thumb out and is hitching a ride back to his office.