Diva by Alex Flinn Page B

if we're together. Like I'm—"
    "A mother?"
    "Very funny. Do you know how hard it is to date when you have kids? Any time a man's interested, he gets
    a whole family."
    I take out my silverware and drop it on the plate. "Well, obviously Arnold doesn't mind a family. He
    already has one of his own." I head for the dining room.
    "Caitlin, so glad you decided to join us." Arnold spoons some chicken onto my plate.
    "Well, it did smell good. Mom's an incredible cook."
    "So tell me about your day, honey," Mom says, looking past me to Arnold.
    But Arnold's still looking at me. "Did I hear La Traviata just now? I've always been a big opera fan."
    "Really?" Surprise on surprise. My mother—who doesn't go to anything artsier than an Adam Sandier
    movie—is dating an opera fan.
    "Oh, yes, we have season tickets."
    We being him and his wife. I smirk at Mom.
    She leans closer to Arnold. "More asparagus?"
    "What? Oh, no, I'm fine. Everything's delicious." To prove it, he takes an enormous mouthful and turns to me, chewing. "That's from the final act, right?"
    "Yes. It's my favorite opera." I'm loving that Mom's completely left out.
    "Mine too. Have you seen it live?"
    "Yes, my voice teacher took me. It was the first opera I ever saw.
    "My first too. What a coincidence. Of course, that was when dinosaurs ruled the earth, but you never
    forget your first opera, do you?
    Mom's looking from her plate of chicken to Arnold and back, obviously trying to think of something to
    add. She knows I'll call her on it, if she says she goes to the opera, but there's nothing else to talk about.
    I'm screwing up my courage to pull a Gigi—to ask him if his wife loves opera too—when Mom says, "We should go sometime.
    This should be beautiful. Mom's never been to the opera, so she doesn't know what it's like—all these
    rich people like Dr. and Mrs. Toe-Jam, seeing and being seen in jewels and tuxedos. A man could never
    go with his girlfriend. All his wife's friends would see him. I wait for Arnold to tell Mom it's impossible.
    Mom's saying, "Caitlin always goes with her friends, but I love the music."
    Right. I look at Arnold. Okay, tell her. Tell her you can't take her .
    "What a great idea," he says. "I'd love to take you, Valerie. Nothing better than great music with a beautiful woman on my arm."
    Mom beams at him. "You're so sweet." I stare. Sweet. Right .

"The season doesn't start until December," Arnold says, "but we'll definitely go."
    Mom's smile widens when he says December, and I know what she's thinking—he's saying they'll still be
    together in December, that he'll blow his wife off. But me, I know he's lying to her. And, mad as I am at
    her for being a home-wrecker, I'm madder at Arnold because she's not wrecking his home. His home's
    fine. He's using my mother. And suddenly, even though Arnold looks completely stupid in sandals and
    socks, I realize he's not stupid at all. He's using her.
    Oh that would be wonderful," she's saying. "I'll buy a new dress."
    And we can have a fancy dinner before." I look at the chicken on my plate and wonder how Arnold would
    look with sauce covering his bald head.
    "Which opera is it?" Mom asks. "Hope it's a love story."
    I push my plate away. "I'll let you two spend some time together."
    "Oh, that's sweet of you, Caitlin," Mom coos. "Don't forget to clear your plate."
    I take the plate into the kitchen and eat everything on it. Then I go to the back cupboard, where we keep
    the semisweet baking chocolate. I take it to my room and open it. It's white on the sides, and crumbles like
    a dog treat. I eat it anyway. I don't start the music. I don't want to sing anything he might hear.
    It's like an opera, really. The other woman, the woman scorned. Except where Mom sees herself as
    Violetta, strong and in control of her men and her destiny, I see her as the doomed heroine of Madame
    Butterfly —the beautiful geisha who thinks she's married a handsome American soldier for real, when
    really she's just a