have fun tonight?”
He puts down the paper. “Yes—but I did worry about you. Some days it’s not easy being a parent. Not some nights either.”
“You don’t have to worry,” I say.
He looks at me. “You really are growing up.”
“I’m still your one and favorite daughter.” I hug him.
Hugging my father is definitely not the same as hugging Dave. I guess I am growing up.
When I go to my room, I hear my father dial the phone.
I listen.
He’s saying, “She’s home safely.”
I continue to listen but he’s talking softly. It’s impossible to hear what he’s saying.
I wonder who my father’s talking to. I know it’s not my mother. Who is he reporting my life to? I don’t think I like that. I hope it’s not that creep Martha who was at the Expresso. I guess that he just does it because he cares.
As I lie in bed I think about Dave and how I can’t see him next weekend because it’s Thanksgiving and I’ve got to be with my mother.
CHAPTER 19
T hanksgiving vacation.
One thing I’m thankful for is that Rosie and I got seats on the Divorce Express.
That’s more than a lot of people can say.
It’s the day before Thanksgiving, and lots of people are going down to the City, more than there are seats. There were even some people left behind, waiting to catch the next bus.
Passengers are standing in the aisle with theirsuitcases and packages. They’ll have to stand all the way to New York. It’s a real bummer.
The first real snow of the year is starting to come down.
I’m exhausted. So’s Rosie. We went to the school cafeteria meeting last night, and it didn’t end till real late. It’s hard work, planning nutritional meals on a small school budget. I’m beginning to see why the school had trouble.
Rosie’s sound asleep next to me and I keep nodding off. Why did we have to go to school today, even for half a day? It’s such a waste. No one really does anything. Half the kids have already left on vacations. The other half just sit around and play Hangman and stuff.
All of a sudden the bus makes a funny sound.
I sit up straight.
So does Rosie.
The bus driver pulls over to the side of the road, just past the end of the New York Thruway. He gets out and checks the bus.
People start yelling, “Oh, no—not this too.” “What’s going on? I’ve got to catch another bus after this one.” And: “This is the last straw.”
The bus driver returns, talks into his radio, andthen turns around to make an announcement. “Okay, folks. Sorry for the inconvenience. We’ve got a flat, and with the weather getting worse, I can’t take a chance on driving with it. Another bus is on the way. Just sit tight.”
Someone yells, “How the hell do you expect us to sit tight when we’re standing?”
“Then stand tight,” some wise guy calls out.
The bus driver tries to calm everyone down.
I feel kind of sorry for him. It’s his Thanksgiving eve too.
Some people from the front of the bus are trying to work their way to the back to go to the bathroom. They have to get through the aisles, trying not to step on or push anyone.
The snow’s coming down worse.
Rosie says, “Maybe we’ll get in so late that my father won’t make me go to my grandmother’s house tomorrow.”
“I didn’t know you didn’t like her. I don’t like mine either. My father’s mother. My mother’s mother I love.”
Rosie says, “I kind of like her, but it’s a real mess. She’s always making cracks about my mother.”
“How can she? Mindy’s wonderful.” I can’t believeit. I think of all the times I’ve been able to talk to her about all sorts of things.
Rosie shakes her head. “My grandmother doesn’t think so. She hates Mindy because she’s white and Jewish. And Mindy’s family hates my father because he’s black and Christian. Me—I’m not only black and white, I’m also Jewish. The whole combination is enough to drive each side a little nuts.”
I nod. “My grandmothers get upset
He puts down the paper. “Yes—but I did worry about you. Some days it’s not easy being a parent. Not some nights either.”
“You don’t have to worry,” I say.
He looks at me. “You really are growing up.”
“I’m still your one and favorite daughter.” I hug him.
Hugging my father is definitely not the same as hugging Dave. I guess I am growing up.
When I go to my room, I hear my father dial the phone.
I listen.
He’s saying, “She’s home safely.”
I continue to listen but he’s talking softly. It’s impossible to hear what he’s saying.
I wonder who my father’s talking to. I know it’s not my mother. Who is he reporting my life to? I don’t think I like that. I hope it’s not that creep Martha who was at the Expresso. I guess that he just does it because he cares.
As I lie in bed I think about Dave and how I can’t see him next weekend because it’s Thanksgiving and I’ve got to be with my mother.
CHAPTER 19
T hanksgiving vacation.
One thing I’m thankful for is that Rosie and I got seats on the Divorce Express.
That’s more than a lot of people can say.
It’s the day before Thanksgiving, and lots of people are going down to the City, more than there are seats. There were even some people left behind, waiting to catch the next bus.
Passengers are standing in the aisle with theirsuitcases and packages. They’ll have to stand all the way to New York. It’s a real bummer.
The first real snow of the year is starting to come down.
I’m exhausted. So’s Rosie. We went to the school cafeteria meeting last night, and it didn’t end till real late. It’s hard work, planning nutritional meals on a small school budget. I’m beginning to see why the school had trouble.
Rosie’s sound asleep next to me and I keep nodding off. Why did we have to go to school today, even for half a day? It’s such a waste. No one really does anything. Half the kids have already left on vacations. The other half just sit around and play Hangman and stuff.
All of a sudden the bus makes a funny sound.
I sit up straight.
So does Rosie.
The bus driver pulls over to the side of the road, just past the end of the New York Thruway. He gets out and checks the bus.
People start yelling, “Oh, no—not this too.” “What’s going on? I’ve got to catch another bus after this one.” And: “This is the last straw.”
The bus driver returns, talks into his radio, andthen turns around to make an announcement. “Okay, folks. Sorry for the inconvenience. We’ve got a flat, and with the weather getting worse, I can’t take a chance on driving with it. Another bus is on the way. Just sit tight.”
Someone yells, “How the hell do you expect us to sit tight when we’re standing?”
“Then stand tight,” some wise guy calls out.
The bus driver tries to calm everyone down.
I feel kind of sorry for him. It’s his Thanksgiving eve too.
Some people from the front of the bus are trying to work their way to the back to go to the bathroom. They have to get through the aisles, trying not to step on or push anyone.
The snow’s coming down worse.
Rosie says, “Maybe we’ll get in so late that my father won’t make me go to my grandmother’s house tomorrow.”
“I didn’t know you didn’t like her. I don’t like mine either. My father’s mother. My mother’s mother I love.”
Rosie says, “I kind of like her, but it’s a real mess. She’s always making cracks about my mother.”
“How can she? Mindy’s wonderful.” I can’t believeit. I think of all the times I’ve been able to talk to her about all sorts of things.
Rosie shakes her head. “My grandmother doesn’t think so. She hates Mindy because she’s white and Jewish. And Mindy’s family hates my father because he’s black and Christian. Me—I’m not only black and white, I’m also Jewish. The whole combination is enough to drive each side a little nuts.”
I nod. “My grandmothers get upset
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