context.”
“Kathleen, you’re shutting Rose out of the conversation. Tell
her, not me.”
Mom stares at the ceiling for a few seconds before she turns
to me and tries to ask very calmly, “Who told you that?”
“Not you. And not him,” I mutter. “He told me he was only
staying for six months.”
“There wasn’t time to tell you,” Mom says, tears filling her
eyes. “He made the decision right before it happened. Who told
you?” she asks again.
“One of the guys he worked with. He wrote that he was glad
when Dad said he’d signed up to stay for more time because
playing chess with Dad was one of the only things that made
life there bearable.”
My mother starts shaking her head again. “He felt like it was
worth it financially, Rose. Adults have to take all sorts of factors
into consideration when making decisions.”
I know that my mother feels guilty about encouraging my dad
to take the contractor job in Iraq. And I also know that she encouraged him to do it because he’d lost his job as an engineer,
the money in Iraq was really good and she’d been freaking out
about their finances because of college tuition. The nice and
smart and generous thing to do would be to let the matter drop.
But I can’t. I just can’t. I have to pour some salt in the wound.
Actually, I have to pick up the saltshaker, take off the top and
dump the whole thing on her raw soul.
“ He felt it was worth it? Or you did?”
The tears that have pooled in her eyes spill down her cheeks
and she stands up, pulling down the hem of her brown pencil
skirt and straightening her peach silk shirt. It’s the outfit Tracy
always compliments her on, and which she wears whenever she
needs help feeling good.
“I’m taking a break,” she says to Caron, reaching for a tissue
on the glass end table that is loaded with arty-looking books
about photography. “I’ll be back.”
If my mother weren’t a shrink, I’m pretty sure Caron wouldn’t
let her just walk out. I’d be forced to stay in the room for sure.
As the door closes behind my mother, I feel gross. Did I really
have to say that to her?
Yes, Rose, you really had to say that. Or you wouldn’t have said
it. Clearly.
Caron gives me a sad smile and makes a quick note on her
yellow legal pad. “So, school on Tuesday,” she says, after some
silence.
I nod.
“How are you feeling about that?”
I shrug.
“Are you worried about seeing Regina after the break?”
I’m surprised Caron is asking me this. She’s sort of breaking
protocol by talking about Regina during a family session when
Kathleen’s not in the room.
“Not really,” I say. Caron tilts her head to express confusion,
since last time she managed to get me to admit that I was nervous about seeing Regina. “I already sort of saw her.”
“You sort of saw her? What does that mean?”
“At a party.”
“You went to a party?” she asks, looking a little pleased even
as she tries to be neutral. “How was it?”
“I got pushed into the pool.”
Caron eyes me carefully, as if I might not be telling the truth.
“Did Regina push you?”
“No. Matt did. Tracy’s ex-boyfriend.”
“That must have made you angry,” she says. “Were you able
to control your response?”
The question embarrasses me. She’s asking if I was able to keep
it together at a party. I guess I can’t blame her, based on the way
I went after Regina last year at track tryouts. Despite all my efforts to the contrary, I am now one of those “crazy” teens with
emotional problems who I’ve seen going in and out of my mom’s
office my whole life. There’s just no getting around it.
“Did you want to hit him?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
Caron cracks a smile. “But you didn’t?”
“I would have loved to punch him—for so, so, so many
reasons—but there was other stuff going on.”
She nods like she’s impressed. I’m not sure if she should be.
“More important things?”
“The swim thugs were trying to