Free The Year of My Miraculous Reappearance by Catherine Ryan Hyde Page B

second time, he was gone, and I didn't even get to say goodbye.
    “Why does life get so awful sometimes?” I asked her.
    She thought that over a minute, like she had to be sure. “Sometimes, I don't know,” she said. “Sometimes it seems like it just is. No matter what you do. But other times it's becauseyou're doing what you shouldn't be doing and not doing what you should.”
    “Oh,” I said.
    Then I was sorry I even asked.
    I shouldn't have worried about that moment when my mom came to get me. Because she didn't. Kiki did. First I thought that was a good break. But I was wrong. About an hour into the drive she dropped a major artillery shell.
    “Don't take this personally or anything,” she said. “But I'm out.”
    I didn't know out of what. And I didn't want to ask, because it sounded serious.
    “You know I don't do the whole Mom thing, Cynnie. You know that.” She waited, like I might have something to say. Wrong. “You have no idea how I caught hell over this. She figures it's partly my fault, because you come over to talk. And sometimes I give you advice, yeah. But I didn't tell you to do this fool thing.”
    That just sat in the air for a while. Too long.
    “So what are you saying, Kiki? That I can't come over anymore?”
    “I'm not getting involved with this family again. I won't do it. We're talking survival here. I'd help you if I could. I'm sorry. But this is about my own survival.”
    “So I'm just never going to see you?”
    “When you're older and you don't live with her. When you're on your own, fine.”
    Great. A mere five years away. In other words, we'd see each other in my next lifetime.
    It was a quiet drive after that.
    A few miles later she said, “I'm sorry, Cynnie. I really am.”
    I said, “Whatever.”
    It's not like I didn't know that's how things turn out. It's not like I wasn't used to it.

CHAPTER 7
My Scratchy New World
    It was a whole new world, all right. I should be careful what I wish for. And, also, I was wrong about the part where nobody would tell me what to do.
    Mom drove me to my first court-ordered AA meeting. “Why don't you come in?” I said. “You might get something out of this, too.” I guess it sounded snotty. Maybe it was, but I really didn't mean it that way. I was scared, and wanting company.
    She got pissed. She'd been on a real short fuse ever since she had to go to Arizona for court and all.
    “Don't you turn this around on me, young lady. This is not about what I did.”
    “Yeah, yeah. All right.”
    “I'll be back at nine-thirty.”
    Damn. No way to duck out early. I was too far from home to walk, at least in my condition.
    I limped inside. There were people coming in, and more inside milling around. One of them held the door for me, because of my crutches and all. Everybody kept trying to catch my eye and smile at me. The last thing I wanted was to look in anybody's eyes.
    I headed for the table with coffee and cookies. I wanted to get myself a cup of coffee, but I felt like everybody was watching me, and everybody would think I was too young. So I ate nine cookies. I kept wishing the meeting would start so we would all have someplace to look.
    The walls were covered with cardboard signs, and they said things like “One day at a time” and “Easy does it.” Whatever that means.
    This woman came up to me and offered her hand to shake. I didn't want to take it. I already knew I didn't like her.
    “I'm Pat,” she said.
    “Okay.”
    “Welcome.”
    I guess I kind of snorted. I didn't want to be welcome because I didn't want to be here at all. I wanted to crawl under the table and never come out. I looked at the door, and I think I would have run, except I had a broken leg, and besides, I knew my mom was going to ask to see my court card, to make sure I got it signed.
    Pat said, “You remind me a lot of me.”
    I didn't take that as a compliment. Because she was old. About fifty. And real heavy. I mean, there was a whole lot of her. I ate