Free Pink Slip Party by Cara Lockwood Page B

laughs. He really shouldn’t have. As it is, I doubt he will see the inside of the bedroom for weeks.
    “Well, that doesn’t matter,” he says. “The fact is that you don’t have to work. I mean, if Jane paid us back those loans she owed us from college…”
    Now, it is my turn to drop my utensils. Those are not loans that any child is supposed to reasonably be asked to pay back. Everyone knows that. I look to Mom, hoping for a vigorous denial, but she is still studying Dad, saying nothing.
    “Mom,” I protest. She doesn’t turn.
    “I mean,” Dad continues, seizing upon her silence as encouragement, “we still have $18,000 on one of her loans, and if we calculate all her spending money from age sixteen to twenty-one, that would put us right around $80,000.”
    “Dad!” I shout, in a panic.
    He can’t be serious. This is in direct violation of the parent-child contract that allows for youthful spending and irresponsibility during college without fear of future financial reprisals. I mean what’s the fun of being a poor student if you’ve got to worry about paying your parents back for all those hundreds of 2:00 A.M. pizza runs?
    Upon hearing the panic in my voice, Todd returns, presumably to gloat.
    “And if we ask Todd to pay us…”
    “Todd already paid us back for his school loans,” Mom says, her voice eerily calm.
    I stare at Todd. He shrugs.
    “Oh, you’re right,” Dad concedes. “Well, if Jane pays us the near hundred grand she owes us, then we’d be all set.”
    Mom actually considers this a moment. I feel like I’m in the middle of a parental Savings and Loan Scandal.
    Kyle’s head is bobbing back and forth like he’s got a front-row seat at Wimbledon.
    “Mom, don’t listen to Dad,” I say, desperate. “He’s just trying to convince you not to work. He feels threatened.”
    “But even so, it isn’t enough. I’m taking this job. And that’s that.” She slams her flat palm on the table, causing everyone to jump. Mom rarely raises her voice and never, except behind the scenes, disobeys my father. An argument of this magnitude is rare enough — but having my mother win a public fight? Unheard of.
    They have a traditional relationship, one based on outdated gender roles and a mutual fear of confrontation.
    “But, Doris…” Dad starts.
    “No more,” Mom says, and her eyes flash a warning, her hands curling around the handle of her steak knife. “I’ve taken the job. I’m starting tomorrow.”
    “Doris…”
    “Don’t say another word, Dennis. Not another word.” Mom’s teeth are clenched, and a small blue vein in her temple is throbbing.
    After a pause she adds in a pleasant, high-pitched hostess voice, “Would anyone like seconds on dessert?”
    Todd drives me home, and I am sandwiched in the backseat next to Kyle. Deena, naturally, gets the front seat. Todd hasn’t even pulled out of the driveway before he brings up the obvious.
    “Mom got a job, Jane — MOM.”
    “I know,” I sigh. I can’t help but feel slightly jealous that Mom has a job and I don’t. Not that she isn’t deserving of one, but how did her resume get through when mine didn’t?
    “I think it’s cool she got a job at her age,” says Deena. “What is she? Fifty?”
    We all ignore her.
    “Mom doesn’t even have any dot-com experience,” Todd says.
    “I know,” I say.
    “I don’t know what the hell is up with this job market,” Todd says, for once not telling me that it’s my fault I’m unemployed. “I just don’t get it. And Dad…” he trails off. “Do you remember when Dad used to take us to his office?”
    Todd looks at me in the rear-view mirror. I look back, and for a second, I think we share a moment.
    “Yeah, and we used to play cops and robbers, and you were always the cop,” I say.
    “That was a lot better than playing Wonder Woman with you and that damn paper clip lasso.”
    “You played Wonder Woman?” Kyle laughs.
    “I didn’t play Wonder Woman,” Todd