All That's True (18 page)

Donna and Bridget’s father are getting divorced.

“When did this happen?” I ask.

“Last night. They had this big fight because my father wants us to move to England and Donna said it was out of the question and my father said he would decide where they live and she could live with it or leave and she said ‘Fine, I’m leaving.’”

Bridget plops down on my bed and puts her hands under her head. “I always thought I’d be happy if Donna went away,” Bridget says in a whisper, like she’s talking to herself. “But now I’d rather she come back so we don’t have to move to London.”

This is definitely not good, Donna and her father getting a divorce. It means she’s free to see my father whenever she wants and I was hoping he’d realized he’d made a big mistake in leaving and come home. I had it all planned out in my mind. He’d come in the door and throw his arms around my mother, beg her forgiveness, and tell her he simply can’t live without her. He can’t understand what he was thinking.

“Living without you—ridiculous,” he would say and shake his head like he should have it examined.

“Does this mean you’re moving to England?” My whole life is falling apart.

“Maybe not,” Bridget says. She rolls over on her stomach and rests her head in her hands. “After Donna said she was leaving he got all apologetic and said they really didn’t have to move to England. He just thought it was a good idea, but if she didn’t want to go, that was fine. He’d keep commuting.”

“And what did Donna say?”

“She said she’d have to think about it. She wasn’t sure she could trust him anymore.” Bridget starts giggling. “Huh! She can’t trust him. That’s funny, don’t you think?”

Actually, nothing’s funny to me right now. My life keeps getting more and more complicated. “So then what?” I ask.

“I don’t know. They saw me peeking around the corner, listening, and started pretending everything was alright. And I said, ‘Are you guys getting a divorce?’ And my father said, ‘Don’t be silly. We’re just having a little discussion, is all.’”

“And what did Donna say?”

“Nothing, she just sat there with one hand to her forehead and the other one in the air like she was trying to get him to stop talking. They’re getting a divorce is what I think.”

“I hope you’re wrong,” I say.

“I thought it would make you happy having Donna out of the way.”

“Well, it would, except my father’s moved out, remember? Having Donna divorced is just going to make things worse.”

“Gosh, I forgot all about that,” Bridget says. “You don’t think that’s the real reason Donna wants a divorce do you?”

“Duh!”

How was my mother ever going to compete with Donna now?

***

I don’t want Bridget to move to England. I don’t want my father to have his own apartment. I don’t want Donna getting a divorce. I don’t want my mother to start drinking again.

Everything in my life right now revolves around what I don’t want. I think of Henry and know exactly what he’d say. “Well now, I know what you don’t want, Andi, but what is it that you want?”

That sounds like such an easy question. But all I can think of is that I want to be happy—not some kind of ecstatic happy, just plain old regular happy. That’s going to be hard to accomplish. Bridget just called. Donna moved out last night. They have no idea where she went. Let me tell you where I figure she went: to my father’s apartment, that’s where.

Bridget’s father has gone into a major depression.

“He’s moping around the house,” she says. “And he’s taking time out from work. He says he needs to decide what direction we’re going in.”

Mostly downhill. Donna is the cause of two families biting the dust.

“I don’t want you to move to England,” I say. “Maybe this is a good time to tell your father that’s not a good option. He will never get Donna back if he’s in England. How about that? Tell him that!”

“I don’t want to remind him about Donna, right now,” Bridget says. She looks out my window and has such a sad look on her face that I want to hug her. “He’s having enough trouble trying not to think of her on his own.”

“That’s so sad.”

“I know. He turned over all of her pictures. They’re facing the wall.”

I want to sneak into their house and turn them around and stick daggers in them. If Donna had never been born maybe both of our lives would be going along really good right now.

“Let’s go over to my father’s apartment,” I say. “If we just pop in on him, we can see if she’s there.”

Bridget turns around from the window. Her face is whiter than cotton. “I know she left my father, but I don’t want to think it was just so she could have yours.”

Bridget starts crying. And that makes me start crying. We’re a mess, the both of us, just a total mess.

I grab the box of Kleenex from the bathroom and hand her a tissue. I take one for myself and wipe my nose, then pull another from the box to dab at my eyes. “So, you want to go over there or not?”

We get Beth to drive us over to my dad’s. She’s off to take the prelaw exam. Last night we sat on her bed and pored over sample questions. They are very bizarre. Beth is not concerned by the sample questions. She just smiles and says they are not that difficult if you break them down to eliminate which ones could not possibly be the answer and you are left with the one that is. I can’t believe Beth is going to take an actual exam with these types of questions. It lasts for like four hours. I would shoot myself. I left her to her studies and went to bed.

Now we’re at my dad’s. Beth pulls up in front of The Landing on Peachtree.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in and say hello?”

“I’m running late already. Get Daddy to take you home.”

With that she’s off. Bridget and I take the elevator to the twentieth floor and ring the doorbell.

“Andi,” my father says. “What a surprise.” He doesn’t seem the least bit nervous, which makes me think that Donna’s not here, after all.

He asks us to come in and offers us a cold drink. Bridget sits down on the sofa and surveys the room. It has that magnificent view of downtown Atlanta. Bridget gets up and goes over to the windows. They run the entire length of the living room.

“Far out!” she says.

I’m about to join her when who should walk into the room but Donna.

“I thought I heard someone,” she says, like it’s nothing out of the ordinary for her to be over at my father’s place. Of course, we walked in on them at the Ritz so it’s no secret their being together, but still.

“Andi,” my father says. “Come sit down. This is as good a time as any for me to explain what’s going on.”

There’s a lump in my throat as big as a watermelon. I sit at the edge of the sofa and fold my hands like I’m praying. I really don’t want an explanation. I want this whole thing to go away.

Instead of sitting down my father stands beside Donna and puts his arm around her. Here it comes.

“Donna and I have fallen in love,” he says.

What’d I tell you?

“It wasn’t something we planned. It just happened. We want to be together. Spend our lives together.”

I can’t help myself. Tears start spilling down my face.

“Does this mean you’re not coming home?” This is a stupid question.

“I’m afraid not, Andi. Donna and I are going to be married as soon as our divorces are final.”

“But you said you were going away to think!” I jump up from the sofa. “That you just needed some time away—”

“Andi, don’t make this any harder than it already is. I know what I said, but I don’t need any more time to decide what I want in my life. Life’s too short to compromise. When you’re older, you’ll understand.”

If I’ve heard that once, I’ve heard that a zillion times. It’s how parents blow you off.

“Girls,” Donna says and tries to reach out and take our hands. “Once we’re married and we’re settled, we want you to come by anytime. You’re always welcome.”

Please—the divorces aren’t even filed and she’s planning for company—already thinking of dinner parties and who to invite.

“I don’t want to visit you!” I scream. “I want my father back!”

Bridget hasn’t said a word. In a way I think she’s happy that Donna will no longer be in her life, but what about her father? She should think about that. Right now I just want to get out of there. But I don’t want my father driving us anywhere. I reach for the phone and call my mother.

“No, we’ll just meet you down in front,” I say, when she asks if she should come up and see how my father is doing.

I want to say, “Trust me, you don’t want to know how he’s doing.” Instead I hang up the receiver and turn to my dad.

“I hope you’re both very happy now that you’ve ruined our lives.” I look straight at Donna. “My mother will probably never recover,” I say. “It’s your fault. You’re a husband stealer and you already had one of your own. I hate you.” Then I turn back to my father. “And I hate you, too! You’ve ruined everything.”

Bridget grabs hold of my arm and pulls me toward the door.

“Come on, Andi,” she says. “That’s not going to help. It’s not going to change anything.”

Maybe not, but it made me feel better just saying it. I had a lot more where that came from, but Bridget opened the door and dragged me to the elevator.

***

I was right about Bridget’s father. He’s taking the news very hard. The worst part is he’s decided to take the promotion in England. And he says they can’t take Rudy, Bridget’s dog. Bridget has had that dog like forever. This bit of news has Bridget in hysterics.

“I’ll be getting a flat until I decide where we’ll live,” her father says. “Taking the dog is out of the question.”

Bridget runs up to her room and I follow. She slams the door and throws herself on her bed.

“I hate him! And I’m not going to London. I’ll run away!”

Which makes me scared because saying you’ll run away is kind of like a person saying they’re going to kill themselves. Many times they mean it.

“I know!” I say. “We’ll keep the dog. Then you can come and visit. How about that?”

Bridget sits up and wipes the tears off her face. “That’d be better than letting strangers have him.”

“When are you going?” I want to know how much time I have to convince my mother we just have to keep Rudy.

“I don’t know,” she says, “but soon.”

Her father says they’re leaving at the end of the month. Well, actually, Bridget’s father is leaving at the end of the month. He’s put the house up for sale and is having the furniture auctioned. Bridget is going to North Carolina to stay with her mother’s sister Ellen, until her father gets settled in London. So, in addition to losing my father, I’m losing my best friend in the entire world.

“You can visit, Andi,” my mother says, trying to comfort me. “Won’t that be nice?”

“It’s not the same,” I wail. “Now we see each other every day.”

“Can we have her dog?” I ask. My mother has never been a dog person, but if we keep Rudy, then Bridget can come here and visit and get a chance to see him, and then maybe later her father will let the dog come to London. They have a lot of dogs over there. The queen has like six or something. My mother says she’ll think about the dog.

I know what I’m going through with Bridget leaving is nothing compared to what my mother’s going through. My father came over last night and explained that he was filing for divorce, but would make sure everything remained the same at home.

“Of course, you can stay in the house,” he says. “And you’ll be well taken care of, Margaret. I’ll pay all the bills. You’ll have a generous settlement. I’ll do everything I can to make this as easy as possible for you.”

Right! Like there’s anything he can do now that he’s destroyed her entire world. What’s going to become of my mother?

She’s sitting on the sofa, not saying a word. She nods her head that she understands. Tears are rolling down her face, but she doesn’t make a sound. I go over to her and put my arms around her.

“I’m sorry, Margaret,” my father whispers. And then he leaves. Just walks out the door and leaves! Only then does my mother break down. She starts wailing like the world has ended. My poor mother—in a way, her world has ended. At least the one she’s always known. I think of what Vivian said on the ship, “Winner take all.”

My mother should get a good attorney and take my dad to the cleaners.

Next week is my birthday. My mother says we’ll have a birthday party and I can invite all my friends. What for? Bridget won’t be here. But then I realize I’ve got to let my life go on. There’s no other choice. I tell my mother a party would be fun. I’ll invite Allison Whitley, you remember, the girl I met who volunteers at the nursing home who has the regular family with the real nice kitchen and the two younger brothers. And Joey and David—I can invite them, too. They were a lot of fun at the Sadie Hawkins dance even if they did laugh at me all the way home. They told jokes that were pretty funny and had no problem with the dancing part.

I help my mother decorate the terrace level of the house. Most people call it a basement, but there are windows and doors down there so I can understand my mother not wanting to call it that. I’m sort of excited. I’ll be fourteen—I’m almost full grown. I have to start acting mature and that means handling the divorce. Beth says, “Andi, grown-ups get divorced all the time. It’s sad, of course, but there’s nothing you can do but accept it. That’s the key.”

That’s what I’m trying to do. In between I’m working on not hating my father. So the party’s a good diversion.

I haven’t had a real party since I was ten. The week before the party drags on. Each day inches forward, longer than a ball of yarn. Everything is ready. The cake’s ordered, the decorations are up, and there are plenty of snacks lined up in the pantry. Finally, I wake up on August 8 and here it is. It’s my birthday. I’m fourteen years old! But it’s a major disappointment. I don’t feel any different than I did the day before. Nothing happened when I was thirteen either, but I counted on it being different when I turned fourteen.

At the party, everyone seems to be having a pretty good time. David and Joey are off in a corner telling jokes and you can hear laughter every other minute. I’m talking to Allison Whitley. She tells me her father has lung cancer. What do you say to that?

“Will he be okay?” I ask. My eyes are big as grapefruits.

I hope it’s not terminal.

“We don’t know. But he never smoked, ever,” she says.

That makes me wonder how he got lung cancer. And then I remember he cooked those delicious hamburgers on the grill. I hope that’s not what caused it. All the cooking out he did and the fumes from the charcoal and all. I try to change the subject.

“Should we put some music on?”

Everything seems to be going real well. The food’s great, the music’s good. Everyone is laughing and talking and some are even dancing. Then my father walks in and ruins everything.

“Anyone seen my little girl?” he says. He still thinks of me as his little girl. He has a large package in his hand. If it’s a Barbie Doll House I’ll kill him. “There she is,” he says. He walks toward me and holds out the package.

I’m about ready to open it, when I hear a commotion on the staircase leading downstairs to where we’re all gathered. It’s my mother. She has Rudy on a leash and is leading him into the room. He licks happily at any hand extended to him. He’s such a great dog.

“Happy Birthday, Andi,” my mother says gaily and hands me his leash. It’s the best birthday present ever. I can’t wait to tell Bridget. And I’ll let her know I’m only keeping him until she can convince her dad they need him back.

***

My father stays upstairs with my mother until the party is over. He stands by the door while everyone leaves and says good-bye and pats some of them on the back, like he still lives here. If he still did, it would make me very happy, since I rarely saw him when he did. But the fact that he’s divorcing my mother and then comes over and plays host, has me very upset.

My mother seems so happy to see him, like maybe she’s going to win him back or something. That upsets me even more. It’s not going to happen.

“Andi,” my mother says once everyone has left. “Your father would like to take you to dinner. Isn’t that nice?”

I’d rather have my nails torn off. I stand there and don’t say anything.

“I think it’s a good idea for you two to spend some time together, don’t you, Andi?” my mother adds. She gives me a big smile.

I don’t want to make her more unhappy than I know she already is, so I agree it would be nice. If lies were pimples, I’d have a serious case of acne.

My father opens the door. I get in the front seat of his car and he pulls away. My mother is standing in the window of the library at the front of the house. She smiles and waves. All I can think of is what she’ll do when we’re gone. Probably lie on her bed and wail like a baby who’s way beyond needing a diaper change.