It's Not the End of the World (3 page)

"Yes?"

"Is Mom coming too?"

"Of course,"

"And Daddy?"

"No. He's not coming."

"Where is he, anyway?"

"He's got some, business to take care of," Aunt Ruth said.

Business? What kind of business would my father do on a Sunday morning? Unless he's selling the store! I'll bet that's it. Didn't he just tell us that sales are way down? So he's going to sell now and get some other kind of job. Jeff is wrong! Mom was upset because this means we'll be very poor. She might have to hock all her antiques. I'll get a job after school, to help out. Maybe I can deliver newspapers.

I ran downstairs and found Amy in the den. She was wearing her underwear. The rest of her clothes were spread out on the floor. I told her to hurry up and get dressed.

Then I went into the laundry room to check Mew's litter box. It was clean and I was glad. I rinsed her bowl and gave her fresh water. I filled her dish up with dried food. I didn't know how long we'd be gone and I wanted to make sure she wouldn't get hungry. She prefers canned cat food but I'm not allowed to leave that in her dish all day.

When I open a can of food for Mew I have to hold my nose. It really stinks. So does her litter box sometimes. But I have discovered that if you love someone the way I love Mew, you learn to overlook the disgusting things. And when I hold her close and she purrs at me it's all worth it.

When we were settled in the car Aunt Ruth drove down to her house to pick up Uncle Dan. Then they switched places so Uncle Dan could drive. We rode all the way to Basking Ridge with Jeff, Amy and me in the back of the car. And when Uncle Dan drives he moves the front seat as far back as it goes because of his long legs. Which means whoever is sitting in the back gets squashed.

Aunt Ruth and Uncle Dan talked the whole time. About the weather and what a nice day it was and how it was just perfect for a drive and how all the snow melted since last week and that there is only one month to go until spring. When Aunt Ruth said that, she put her arm around my mother and added, "Everything will look brighter in the spring, Ellie."

Jeff leaned close and whispered, "You see ... what did I tell you?"

"It's not what you think," I whispered back. I couldn't tell him in front of everyone that what Aunt Ruth meant was that then the store will be sold and Daddy will have a new job.

By the time we got to the restaurant Amy was carsick and she threw up in the parking lot. We are used to that. She does it every time we go for a long ride. She is so experienced she never even messes herself up. And she can eat like a tiger afterward. She never gets sick on the way home-only going. I wonder why?

The restaurant was called the Red Bull Inn and it had bare wooden floors and paper place mats that looked like lace on each table. I studied the menu. Our waitress recommended the curried shrimp. Jeff, Amy and I ordered hamburgers and French fries. My mother said she'd have an omelet and Aunt Ruth and Uncle Dan said they would try the curried shrimp. The waitress seemed really glad to hear that, as if she had been cooking all day and now at last somebody was going to eat her stuff.

When we were almost through, Mom said, "I have something to tell you." She wasn't looking at Aunt Ruth or Uncle Dan. She was looking at me and Jeff and Amy. "I wanted to tell you before, but I just couldn't. It isn't easy for me to say this and it won't be easy for you to understand . . ."

I dropped my fork then. It made a clinking sound when it hit the floor. I bent down to get it.

Uncle Dan said, "Let it go, Karen. The waitress can bring you another one."

"Go ahead . . . tell us what you were going to say, Mother," Jeff said.

Mom took a deep breath and said, "Daddy and I are separating."

"I knew it!" Jeff said, looking at me.

I felt tears come to my eyes. I told myself, don't start crying now Karen, you jerk. Not now. I sniffled and took a long swallow of Coke. I guess I knew

it all the time. I was just fooling myself-playing games like Amy.

"What's separating?" Amy asked.

"It means your father isn't going to live at home any more," Aunt Ruth explained.

"But he has to!" Amy said. "He's our father."

"Shush . . ." Aunt Ruth told her. "Everyone can hear."

"I don't care," Amy shouted, looking around the restaurant. But there were only a few other customers.

Uncle Dan reached for Amy's hand. "Sometimes, when a mother and father have problems, they live apart for a while to think things over."

"Is he coming back?" Jeff asked. "Or are you getting a divorce?"

"We don't know yet," Mom told him.

"A divorce!" I said, when I hadn't planned to say anything. "You wouldn't! You wouldn't get a divorce!" Then I started crying for real and I jumped up from the table and ran through the restaurant. I heard Aunt Ruth call, "Karen . . . Karen . . . come back here." But I kept going. I didn't want to hear any more. I went out the front door and stood against the sign that said Red Bull Inn, letting the tears roll down my face.

Soon Aunt Ruth came with my coat. "Karen," she said, "put this on. You'll freeze to death."

"Go away," I told her.

Aunt Ruth wrapped the coat around my shoulders. "Karen . . . don't be like that. This is even harder on your mother than it is on you. She's very upset ... if she sees you like this it's going to make her feel even worse."

You don't argue with Aunt Ruth. She has a habit of not listening to anything she doesn't want to hear. So I put on my coat and Aunt Ruth said, "Now, that's better."

We walked through the parking lot to the car. Aunt Ruth kept her arm around me. "Nothing is settled yet," she said. "Your father is home packing his things now. That's why we all went out to lunch. To give him a chance to move."

"But doesn't he want to see us? Doesn't he care? How can he move out of his own house?"

"Karen . . . there are some things that are very hard for children to understand."

That's what people say when they can't explain something to you. I don't believe it. I can understand anything they can understand. I got into the car but I didn't say anything else. I looked out the side window.

"You have to be the one to help your mother," Aunt Ruth said. "She needs you . . . more than ever."

I shook my head and pressed my forehead against

the window. Why did Jeff have to be right? Why couldn't it have been something else? If only we could go back a few days and start again maybe things would work out differently.

My mother came out of the restaurant with Amy and Jeff. Mom was carrying an ice-cream cone. "Here, Karen," she said. "I know you like dessert best."

I tried to smile at Mom because I couldn't say thank you. I knew if I said anything I'd start crying. I didn't want the cone, even though it was coffee, my favorite flavor. But I took it from Mom and licked it anyway.

"Dan will be right out," Mom told Aunt Ruth. "He's paying the check."

"Shove over, Karen," Jeff said.

"No, I like it here," I told him. "Get in on the other side."

"I said shove over!" Jeff repeated.

When I didn't, he climbed across me and stepped on my foot. I kicked him as hard as I could. He gave me an elbow in the ribs and my ice cream landed in my lap.

6.

What will happen to me if they get divorced? Who will I live with? Where will I go to school? Will my friends laugh? I want a mother and a father and I want them to live together-right here- in this house! I don't care if they fight. I would rather have them fight than be divorced. I'm scared . . . I'm so scared. I wish somebody would talk to me and tell me it's going to be all right. I miss Daddy already. I hate them both! I wish I was dead.

On Monday morning I didn't get up. My mother came into my room to see what was wrong. "I'm sick," I told her. "I can't go to school."

Mom sat down on my bed. "I know how you feel about me and Daddy . . ."

"It's not that," I said. "I wasn't even thinking about you. It's my head and my stomach. I might throw up."

Mom put her hand on my forehead. "You don't feel warm."

"A person can be very sick without a fever," I said.

"You're right," she told me. "I better call Dr. Winters."

"Don't bother," I said. "I just want to sleep."

"Well . . . okay. But if you get any worse I'll have to call him."

"If I can just sleep I'll feel better."

"All right."

I heard Jeff and Amy getting ready for school. How can they go? How can they face their friends? I heard my mother calling, "Amy . . . Amy . . . hurry up or you'll miss the bus." Some things never change, I thought.

I stayed in bed all day. My mother made me tea and toast but I wouldn't eat it. Later she tried soup but I wouldn't eat that either. She said if I didn't take something she'd have to call the doctor. So I drank some juice.

Debbie stopped by after school, on the way to her piano lesson. She came upstairs and stood in the doorway of my room.

"Hi," she said. "What's wrong?"

"Everything," I told her. She looked pretty. Her cheeks were all pink from the cold. I wanted to tell her about my mother and father. I wanted to tell her

so bad it made my head hurt for real. But I couldn't. Saying it would make it come true.

Debbie sat down on my other bed. "Your mother said it's not catching so it's all right for me to be in your room."

"My mother told you it's not catching?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Well, I'd like to know how she can say that."

"I don't know," Debbie said, "but she did. You look like you've been crying."

"So? Maybe I have been. Don't you ever cry when you're sick?"

"No," Debbie said.

"Well, this is an unusual sickness. It makes you cry!"

"Why are you mad at me?" Debbie asked.

"I'm not," I said. "I just don't feel like talking. Can't you see... I'm sick!"

"Want me to make monkey faces for you?"

"No-not today." Debbie can make very good monkey faces. She can look like a chimpanzee or a gorilla. Usually I crack up when she does them. But I didn't feel like laughing today.

"Will you be back in school tomorrow?" Debbie asked.

"No. I'll be out a long, long time. I may never get better."

"Oh, come on, Karen! You want me to bring you your books?"

"I've got my English book home."

"How about math?"

"No... I don't want it."

"Should I tell Mrs. Singer what's wrong with you?"

"No. Don't tell her anything!"

Debbie looked at the floor. I turned away from her and faced the wall. After a minute she said, "Is Jeff home yet?"

"How should I know? I'm in bed. Can't you see that?"

"I was just wondering . . . that's all."

"He doesn't like you anyway, so why don't you just leave him alone."

"Did he say that?" Debbie asked.

"He doesn't have to. Anyone with eyes can see it. And who did you come here to see anyway ... me or him?" I was making Debbie feel bad and I was glad. Sometimes I am a mean and rotten person.

Debbie jumped up. "I came to see you and you know it! Whatever's wrong with you I hope it goes away soon because it's making you impossible!" Debbie walked to the door. "I'm going."

"So go! "I told her.

"I am."

Lying to Debbie did not make me feel any better. It made me feel worse.

Later Mom came into my room and told me to put on my robe and come downstairs for dinner.

"I don't want anything to eat," I said.

"Karen, if you don't get up and come down you can't go to school tomorrow."

"So?"

"If you don't go to school tomorrow, you won't be able to have dinner with Daddy."

I sat up. "He's coming back?"

"No. He's taking you and Jeff and Amy out to eat. He wants to talk to you."

"Who says I want to talk to him?" I asked.

"Karen . . . don't be like that! Daddy is a wonderful person. He loves you."

"If he's so wonderful why are you separated?"

"Because we can't get along," Mom said.

"You could try!" I told her, feeling a lump in my throat.

"We have tried. Now I don't want to talk about it any more."

I put on my robe and went down for dinner. I wonder if anyone will ever talk about it!

Debbie was really surprised to see me at the bus stop the next morning. "I thought you were very sick," she said.

"I was. But I got better."

"So fast?" she asked.

"Yes. It was one of those twenty-four-hour bugs."

"Oh."

"Hey, look, Debbie . . . I'm really sorry I acted that way yesterday. It was just that my head was killing me and all. . . ."

"Forget it," Debbie said.

"Did I miss much in school?" I asked.

"No. Same old thing. Mrs. Singer changed our desks around. I'm next to Gary Owens and Eileen."

"Where am I?"

"I'm not sure. But I think you're next to the wall on one side."

"That figures," I said. "One more way for Mrs. Singer to get me."

"I really don't think she's out to get you," Debbie said.

"Ha-ha."

"I mean it, Karen. You know I can't stand her either, but I don't think she treats you any worse than the rest of us."

"Well, I do."

When we got to school I handed Mrs. Singer my note from home. It said: Please excuse Karen's absence on Monday. She wasn't feeling well.

Mrs. Singer said, "I'm glad you're feeling better, Karen."

I looked at her. Did she know something? Did my mother call the school and tell them about Daddy moving out? Why else would Mrs. Singer act nice all of a sudden? She never says anything when you've been absent. One time Debbie was sick for a couple of weeks and when she came back to school Mrs. Singer didn't even smile. So why should she be glad I'm feeling better? If she knows the truth about my parents I will absolutely die.

My father called for us at five that night. He didn't come inside. He just tooted his horn. Amy ran out of the house first. "Daddy . . . Daddy . . . Daddy . . ." she yelled. Jeff and I followed. We got into the car and said, "Hi."

We went to Howard Johnson's on the highway. We sat in a booth in the back room and my father