bookshelf. After she left, I spent hours each day cleaning and organizing and putting things into order. My system worked. Dad and Ian never lost anything. They always knew where things went, thanks to all of the tiny labels I’d attached to practically everything.
Now this woman wanted to come in and ruin it all. How hard was it to read a label?
A knock on my door startled me. I glared at it. Why couldn’t Dad leave me alone? I was in no mood to have a sappy father-daughter heart-to-heart talk with a hug at the end to make everything better.
I snatched open the door. “Dad, I don’t really want to—”
I stopped suddenly, clamping my mouth shut. It wasn’t my dad, it was Trisha. She smiled at me, but I could see nervousness and hesitation in her eyes.
“Can I come in for a second?” Trisha asked.
I opened the door wider and turned around to stand by my desk, crossing my arms over my chest as I looked at her.
Trisha took this as a silent invitation to come in and she stepped halfway into my room, looking around for a moment to take in the shelves of academic awards along the lavender and gray striped walls. Near the closet stood a bookcase of medical books and the few stuffed animals and dolls I still had left over from my childhood. The purple pillows on my neatly made bed were stacked in order from largest to smallest. Everything was neat and orderly, everything in its own place. Just as I liked it.
“Nice room,” Trisha told me. “The X-rays add to the ambiance.” She pointed toward a framed photo of an X-ray I’d had at age ten, when Elliott had dared Hannah and me to ride our bikes off this little ramp he’d made from an old piece of wooden fence and a car tire. Hannah had made it over safely, but I had panicked when I hit the ramp, jerked my bicycle toward the right and fell onto the sidewalk, fracturing my arm. It was still the only broken bone I’d ever had.
The memory of Hannah and Elliott decorating my cast with drawings and their signatures made me smile a bit. But then I remembered it had been Dad who had taken me to the hospital that day because Mom wouldn’t get out of bed. She had spent a lot of time in bed during the last couple of years she was with us.
My smile faded, replaced by a deep scowl.
“Well,” Trisha said, clearing her throat when I didn’t say anything in response, “I wanted to apologize for not putting things back where they’re supposed to be. Your dad told me how much you like everything to be organized.”
Yeah, I could imagine Dad telling Trisha how crazy I was about organization. Dad could be pretty sloppy at times, not as bad as Mom ever was, but not exactly the neatest person in the world. He didn’t get how organizing and cleaning could calm me down.
“It’s fine,” I said through clenched teeth. “But next time remember to put things back where they belong.”
Trisha sat down on the edge of my bed, pulling the comforter out of place slightly. “Avery, I know it’s hard to see your dad dating people.”
I shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“I know how you feel,” she went on. “My parents divorced when I was a kid and it was weird when they started dating. I didn’t always like it. I secretly thought my mom and dad would eventually get back together.”
A sting shot through me. “Yeah, well, I know my parents aren’t getting back together. My mom disappeared . She’s not coming back.”
Trisha cringed for half a second, but it was quickly replaced by a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your mom still loves you and thinks about you. Your dad loves you too. You and Ian are his entire world. I feel honored that he’s let me into his life and let me get to know you and your brother.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. She talked as if we were all one shiny, happy family. But we never had been and we never would be.
“I need to do my homework,” I lied, hoping she would take the hint and leave.
Trisha nodded and stood. Before she left, she
Now this woman wanted to come in and ruin it all. How hard was it to read a label?
A knock on my door startled me. I glared at it. Why couldn’t Dad leave me alone? I was in no mood to have a sappy father-daughter heart-to-heart talk with a hug at the end to make everything better.
I snatched open the door. “Dad, I don’t really want to—”
I stopped suddenly, clamping my mouth shut. It wasn’t my dad, it was Trisha. She smiled at me, but I could see nervousness and hesitation in her eyes.
“Can I come in for a second?” Trisha asked.
I opened the door wider and turned around to stand by my desk, crossing my arms over my chest as I looked at her.
Trisha took this as a silent invitation to come in and she stepped halfway into my room, looking around for a moment to take in the shelves of academic awards along the lavender and gray striped walls. Near the closet stood a bookcase of medical books and the few stuffed animals and dolls I still had left over from my childhood. The purple pillows on my neatly made bed were stacked in order from largest to smallest. Everything was neat and orderly, everything in its own place. Just as I liked it.
“Nice room,” Trisha told me. “The X-rays add to the ambiance.” She pointed toward a framed photo of an X-ray I’d had at age ten, when Elliott had dared Hannah and me to ride our bikes off this little ramp he’d made from an old piece of wooden fence and a car tire. Hannah had made it over safely, but I had panicked when I hit the ramp, jerked my bicycle toward the right and fell onto the sidewalk, fracturing my arm. It was still the only broken bone I’d ever had.
The memory of Hannah and Elliott decorating my cast with drawings and their signatures made me smile a bit. But then I remembered it had been Dad who had taken me to the hospital that day because Mom wouldn’t get out of bed. She had spent a lot of time in bed during the last couple of years she was with us.
My smile faded, replaced by a deep scowl.
“Well,” Trisha said, clearing her throat when I didn’t say anything in response, “I wanted to apologize for not putting things back where they’re supposed to be. Your dad told me how much you like everything to be organized.”
Yeah, I could imagine Dad telling Trisha how crazy I was about organization. Dad could be pretty sloppy at times, not as bad as Mom ever was, but not exactly the neatest person in the world. He didn’t get how organizing and cleaning could calm me down.
“It’s fine,” I said through clenched teeth. “But next time remember to put things back where they belong.”
Trisha sat down on the edge of my bed, pulling the comforter out of place slightly. “Avery, I know it’s hard to see your dad dating people.”
I shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“I know how you feel,” she went on. “My parents divorced when I was a kid and it was weird when they started dating. I didn’t always like it. I secretly thought my mom and dad would eventually get back together.”
A sting shot through me. “Yeah, well, I know my parents aren’t getting back together. My mom disappeared . She’s not coming back.”
Trisha cringed for half a second, but it was quickly replaced by a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your mom still loves you and thinks about you. Your dad loves you too. You and Ian are his entire world. I feel honored that he’s let me into his life and let me get to know you and your brother.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. She talked as if we were all one shiny, happy family. But we never had been and we never would be.
“I need to do my homework,” I lied, hoping she would take the hint and leave.
Trisha nodded and stood. Before she left, she
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