she bursts out laughing and covers her mouth, looking a little bit shocked. When she recovers, she says, “I am sooo sorry. But you know, Cork and Inggy are ridiculous. Being exclusive all these years. You’re kids, for god’s sake. Has he ever hit on you?”
“Of course not!”
“Well, I’ll tell you, Cork’s got a lot of living in him.”
“Yeah, you think? He’s seventeen.” And an asshole.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant.”
“There’s love, Angel, and there’s sex. And there’s a whole lot more sex than love.”
“I already know that.” I sit on the bed and poke at the cheese, and when she reaches for a slice I pull the napkin away.
“Come on,” she says gently. She dangles her ringy hand in front of me.
“What smells good?” I say. “What is that?”
“Coco.” She holds out a wrist. “It’s nice, right?”
“Why can’t you find anyone? Why are you always looking?”
She gets up and looks at herself in the wall mirror, running her hands through her hair. “Maybe when you’re ready it finds you. Maybe I’m not ready.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“I don’t know,” she says, getting annoyed. “Relationships are work, Angel. Maybe that’s why your old mother is alone. Maybe I’m too selfish.”
“God, I can’t believe you!” I replay it in my mind. “You and— Ew!”
“Look, Inggy doesn’t need to know any of this. Not that you’d tell her, but trust me, the Inggys of the world especially don’t need to know these things.”
“Am I selfish?”
“You’re a teenager. You’re supposed to be. But you’re kind, Angel. You are.”
I look out at the bay. The water is dark and smooth, andthe cattails ripple in the wind. All is right with the world out there, but in here it is perfectly wrong. I know one thing: when I’m Mom’s age I’m going to know when to stop being a girl. “What happened to the banker?”
“Didn’t come. Something about the babysitter being sick.” She shrugs. “I’ll see you in the morning.” And she heads down the stairs, dangling her shoes in her hands.
“What did you mean, the Inggys of the world don’t need to know these things?” I call after her.
But she doesn’t answer.
chapter 14
The next morning a low fog hangs over the bay. I stay in bed for a long time, dozing on and off, then finally rise and take a long, hot shower, scrubbing myself very clean.
And then I’m saved.
As I pull on jeans, Mossy pokes his head in the back door and yells, “Your dad’s on the phone.” I jog over to the House with wet hair to find out that Ginger’s mother’s ulcer is acting up, so Ginger’s off to Egg Harbor for a few days. “Come have dinner with us,” my dad says. Better yet, I tell him, I’ll hang out and help him with the girls. So it’s set. I eat a cold piece of French toast from a plate on the counter and tell everybody I’m leaving as I lick my sticky fingers.
“I wanna come,” Mimi says.
Mom sits at the kitchen table, hunched over her checkbook with no makeup on and her hair in a low, sloppy ponytail. She glances at me quickly, smiles, adjusts her reading glasses. “For a few days, huh?”
“Yup.” I pour myself a splash of orange juice. “Bye, little man,” I say to Mossy, who’s curled up the couch in front of the TV. He holds up his hand, and I give him five.
“I wanna come.” Mimi follows me to the door.
“Ride your bike over later,” I say, cupping her head.
I pack a bag, throwing in a toothbrush, mascara, jeans, underwear, and a couple of shirts, and then I am outta there.
It’s nice hanging out with my dad. The first night he cooks a big Italian meal, and we take the kids to the A & P and load up the cart with a lot of stuff Ginger wouldn’t approve of, I’m sure. After dinner I give the girls a bath, and naked and slippery, they dash down the hall and I chase them. I love their bright little faces, their wet eyelashes. When I tuck Abby in, she puts
“Of course not!”
“Well, I’ll tell you, Cork’s got a lot of living in him.”
“Yeah, you think? He’s seventeen.” And an asshole.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant.”
“There’s love, Angel, and there’s sex. And there’s a whole lot more sex than love.”
“I already know that.” I sit on the bed and poke at the cheese, and when she reaches for a slice I pull the napkin away.
“Come on,” she says gently. She dangles her ringy hand in front of me.
“What smells good?” I say. “What is that?”
“Coco.” She holds out a wrist. “It’s nice, right?”
“Why can’t you find anyone? Why are you always looking?”
She gets up and looks at herself in the wall mirror, running her hands through her hair. “Maybe when you’re ready it finds you. Maybe I’m not ready.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“I don’t know,” she says, getting annoyed. “Relationships are work, Angel. Maybe that’s why your old mother is alone. Maybe I’m too selfish.”
“God, I can’t believe you!” I replay it in my mind. “You and— Ew!”
“Look, Inggy doesn’t need to know any of this. Not that you’d tell her, but trust me, the Inggys of the world especially don’t need to know these things.”
“Am I selfish?”
“You’re a teenager. You’re supposed to be. But you’re kind, Angel. You are.”
I look out at the bay. The water is dark and smooth, andthe cattails ripple in the wind. All is right with the world out there, but in here it is perfectly wrong. I know one thing: when I’m Mom’s age I’m going to know when to stop being a girl. “What happened to the banker?”
“Didn’t come. Something about the babysitter being sick.” She shrugs. “I’ll see you in the morning.” And she heads down the stairs, dangling her shoes in her hands.
“What did you mean, the Inggys of the world don’t need to know these things?” I call after her.
But she doesn’t answer.
chapter 14
The next morning a low fog hangs over the bay. I stay in bed for a long time, dozing on and off, then finally rise and take a long, hot shower, scrubbing myself very clean.
And then I’m saved.
As I pull on jeans, Mossy pokes his head in the back door and yells, “Your dad’s on the phone.” I jog over to the House with wet hair to find out that Ginger’s mother’s ulcer is acting up, so Ginger’s off to Egg Harbor for a few days. “Come have dinner with us,” my dad says. Better yet, I tell him, I’ll hang out and help him with the girls. So it’s set. I eat a cold piece of French toast from a plate on the counter and tell everybody I’m leaving as I lick my sticky fingers.
“I wanna come,” Mimi says.
Mom sits at the kitchen table, hunched over her checkbook with no makeup on and her hair in a low, sloppy ponytail. She glances at me quickly, smiles, adjusts her reading glasses. “For a few days, huh?”
“Yup.” I pour myself a splash of orange juice. “Bye, little man,” I say to Mossy, who’s curled up the couch in front of the TV. He holds up his hand, and I give him five.
“I wanna come.” Mimi follows me to the door.
“Ride your bike over later,” I say, cupping her head.
I pack a bag, throwing in a toothbrush, mascara, jeans, underwear, and a couple of shirts, and then I am outta there.
It’s nice hanging out with my dad. The first night he cooks a big Italian meal, and we take the kids to the A & P and load up the cart with a lot of stuff Ginger wouldn’t approve of, I’m sure. After dinner I give the girls a bath, and naked and slippery, they dash down the hall and I chase them. I love their bright little faces, their wet eyelashes. When I tuck Abby in, she puts
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