Simon, by default, was The One, I asked where theyâd been together.
âNo, no, Iâve given Simon the old heave-ho, as well,â Mom said.
âWhy?â I asked, my brain getting more tangled by the second.
âNose hair,â came the reply. âNo, Iâm talking about Andy.â
My mom is so superficial. Honestly, sheâs always telling me I have to see beyond what people look like and seek the inner person, find out whether they are kind, or considerate or have hidden qualities, blah, blah, blah (apart from Dadâs girlfriend, Skinny Lynnyâshe canât stop thinking up snide comments about her). Then, as soon as one of her boyfriends wears the wrong shoes or she notices a hair sprouting in the wrong place, she dumps them. What chance do I have of having any sort of quality relationship with any future boyfriends with such a bad role model?
âAndy?â I asked faintly. There had been no mention of an Andy before I left. It was only two days ago, for heavenâs sake.
âYup! Andy is a lawyer,â Mom said reverently.
âIs that good?â I asked, bewildered.
âGood? Itâs better than good. Iâm telling you, Pia, Andy would have come in very handy when your father and I were going through our divorce.â
Stable, door, boltedâall words which sprang to mind but instead of mentioning them out loud, I asked Mom about shoes, nasal sproutings, and other possible barriers to true love.
âNope, Andy wears very stylish shoes. No nasal hair. No ear hair either. In fact,â she paused, âAndy has no hair at all, head-wise.â
âHeâs bald?â
âYes, but it suits him and, as Carol saysâ¦â
I groaned inwardly. Her friend Carolâs opinion is highly valued by my mom, highly dreaded by me.
ââ¦bald is very fashionable. Very now.â
âWell as long as youâre having fun,â I said, giving up.
I hung up and shared my concerns with Bean. She looked at me vacantly, unable to comprehend a parent with such an active social life. âAt least your mom doesnât appear from her studio at eight oâclock at night, after everyone else has cooked their own dinner, and ask what youâd like for lunch,â she said.
âWhy donât you buy her a watch?â I asked.
âWe did. Several,â Bean replied. âThey turned up fused together in a block of Plexiglas, titled Time: Frozen , and exhibited at the local museum. Some mental person actually bought it for a couple of thousand dollars. She uses everything in her sculptures. She stole some of my school pens for some piece she did about education. Honestly, you canât leave anything lying around.â
Obviously, when one is artistic, one loses track of time or how some things can be useful. My mom seems to lose track of how many boyfriends she has. Or had. Either way, moms seems prone to carelessness. I just hoped that, in my absence, my mom wouldnât lose her head over this Andy lawyer person. But I couldnât worry about that for very long because it was barbecue night, and we were all looking forward to it.
Chapter 9
Mrs. Reeve was wearingâaccording to herâa comedy barbecue apron. And she looked pretty ridiculous in it. The figure of a muscle-bound male in swimming trunks with Mrs. Reeveâs head sprouting out of the top wasnât so much comic as gross, particularly as her two grayish blond braids dangled either side of a hairy male chest.
âGrody!â Amber declared, stuffing shrimp in her mouth and washing them down with Coke as Mrs. Reeve shuffled off to the shed to get some more charcoal.
âHave you spoken to Mom, yet?â Zoe asked her, the ends of her curly blond hair still wet from her swim.
âNot yet,â said Amber, rolling her eyes at me.
âCome ON, Amber, do it now!â Zoe yelled. âYou canât keep putting it off, you have to tell her