weight.
“What now?” sighs Mutti.
“I just told Eva that I’ll see what I can do about entering her in Strafford.”
Mutti stares at me for a moment, and then takes her place behind Eva’s parsley. She picks up the knife and begins chopping, lightning quick.
“And what are you going to do about a horse?” she says finally.
“I don’t know yet.”
Mutti doesn’t answer. I consider telling her about the phone call, but decide I’m not ready to leap off that particular precipice yet.
When the table is laid with hummus, pita, and tabbouleh, I go to the bottom of the stairs and call Eva.
I hover by the kitchen doorway, listening. After a few seconds, her door squeaks open, and shortly thereafter she thumps into the kitchen.
“Hey, Ma,” she says cheerfully.
The phone rings. I look expectantly at Eva. Shebreezes right past and comes to a stop by her backpack, which hangs from a hook by the door.
I look at Mutti, who raises an eyebrow. I shrug and answer the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mrs. Zimmer. It’s Luis. Is Eva there?”
“We’re just sitting down to dinner, but you can talk for a couple of minutes.” I turn toward Eva and hold out the telephone. “Eva, it’s Luis.”
“I’m not home,” says Eva, rummaging around in the backpack’s outer compartment.
My eyes spring open. I clap my hand over the mouthpiece of the phone.
“I can’t tell him you’re not here,” I hiss. “He heard you! What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing. I just don’t want to talk to him,” she says. She extracts a cherry-flavored ChapStick and applies it to her lips in a single round sweep. Afterward, she smacks her lips.
“Eva! He knows you’re here.”
“Yeah, well, now I’m not,” she says, grabbing her jacket and exiting. The screen door slams behind her.
I blink in horror first at Mutti, then at the phone in my hand. Mutti spins to look out the kitchen window as I bring the phone reluctantly back to my ear.
I clear my throat. “Uh…” I say.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Zimmer. I heard.”
“I’m so sorry, Luis. I have no idea what’s going on.”
“It’s okay,” he repeats gloomily.
Wait a minute. He’s not surprised. Why is he not surprised?
“Luis? What’s going on? Did you two have a fight?”
“No.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, something must have happened!”
“Not on my end, it didn’t,” he says, sounding exasperated. “She stopped calling about a week ago, and now she won’t talk to me at all. I don’t know what the heck is going on.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“No!” he says loudly.
I frown, thinking I should probably be offended.
“I’m sorry,” he continues quickly, picking up on my feelings. “I didn’t mean to be rude, but please don’t. I’d really rather deal with this myself.”
Huh. All right then. We say our goodbyes.
“Where did she go?” I ask Mutti after I hang up.
“The stable.”
I cross the kitchen and grab my jacket from the hook.
“Leave her alone,” says Mutti. “Come. Eat.”
I pause.
Mutti points a finger at my chair. “Come. Eat,” she repeats. “There’s nothing you can do.”
I hesitate, watching as she spoons food onto the plates. Then I hang my jacket back up and join her at the table.
“You must let them work it out themselves,” she says, leaning over and pouring me a glass of wine. “Anything you do will seem like interference. Do you remember what happened when you were a teenager and I tried to help smooth things over with Dan?”
Boy, do I ever. If Mutti hadn’t loved Dan and hated Roger, I probably would have married Dan in the first place. I lift my wineglass and take a deep slurp.
“Besides, the semester ends soon,” Mutti continues, spreading her napkin across her lap. She rips a pita apart and uses it to scoop up hummus. “Perhaps they’ll sort things out when he returns for the summer.”
“Perhaps,” I say miserably.
Despite my initial
“What now?” sighs Mutti.
“I just told Eva that I’ll see what I can do about entering her in Strafford.”
Mutti stares at me for a moment, and then takes her place behind Eva’s parsley. She picks up the knife and begins chopping, lightning quick.
“And what are you going to do about a horse?” she says finally.
“I don’t know yet.”
Mutti doesn’t answer. I consider telling her about the phone call, but decide I’m not ready to leap off that particular precipice yet.
When the table is laid with hummus, pita, and tabbouleh, I go to the bottom of the stairs and call Eva.
I hover by the kitchen doorway, listening. After a few seconds, her door squeaks open, and shortly thereafter she thumps into the kitchen.
“Hey, Ma,” she says cheerfully.
The phone rings. I look expectantly at Eva. Shebreezes right past and comes to a stop by her backpack, which hangs from a hook by the door.
I look at Mutti, who raises an eyebrow. I shrug and answer the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mrs. Zimmer. It’s Luis. Is Eva there?”
“We’re just sitting down to dinner, but you can talk for a couple of minutes.” I turn toward Eva and hold out the telephone. “Eva, it’s Luis.”
“I’m not home,” says Eva, rummaging around in the backpack’s outer compartment.
My eyes spring open. I clap my hand over the mouthpiece of the phone.
“I can’t tell him you’re not here,” I hiss. “He heard you! What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing. I just don’t want to talk to him,” she says. She extracts a cherry-flavored ChapStick and applies it to her lips in a single round sweep. Afterward, she smacks her lips.
“Eva! He knows you’re here.”
“Yeah, well, now I’m not,” she says, grabbing her jacket and exiting. The screen door slams behind her.
I blink in horror first at Mutti, then at the phone in my hand. Mutti spins to look out the kitchen window as I bring the phone reluctantly back to my ear.
I clear my throat. “Uh…” I say.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Zimmer. I heard.”
“I’m so sorry, Luis. I have no idea what’s going on.”
“It’s okay,” he repeats gloomily.
Wait a minute. He’s not surprised. Why is he not surprised?
“Luis? What’s going on? Did you two have a fight?”
“No.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, something must have happened!”
“Not on my end, it didn’t,” he says, sounding exasperated. “She stopped calling about a week ago, and now she won’t talk to me at all. I don’t know what the heck is going on.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“No!” he says loudly.
I frown, thinking I should probably be offended.
“I’m sorry,” he continues quickly, picking up on my feelings. “I didn’t mean to be rude, but please don’t. I’d really rather deal with this myself.”
Huh. All right then. We say our goodbyes.
“Where did she go?” I ask Mutti after I hang up.
“The stable.”
I cross the kitchen and grab my jacket from the hook.
“Leave her alone,” says Mutti. “Come. Eat.”
I pause.
Mutti points a finger at my chair. “Come. Eat,” she repeats. “There’s nothing you can do.”
I hesitate, watching as she spoons food onto the plates. Then I hang my jacket back up and join her at the table.
“You must let them work it out themselves,” she says, leaning over and pouring me a glass of wine. “Anything you do will seem like interference. Do you remember what happened when you were a teenager and I tried to help smooth things over with Dan?”
Boy, do I ever. If Mutti hadn’t loved Dan and hated Roger, I probably would have married Dan in the first place. I lift my wineglass and take a deep slurp.
“Besides, the semester ends soon,” Mutti continues, spreading her napkin across her lap. She rips a pita apart and uses it to scoop up hummus. “Perhaps they’ll sort things out when he returns for the summer.”
“Perhaps,” I say miserably.
Despite my initial
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