"Oh. shut up, will you, and let the girl talk. finally." Mama said.
"They were drinking a lot and Shawn was too. We never even had any dinner."
"That's what I expected," Daddy said nodding.
"Oh, you expected. What are you, a fortuneteller now?" Mama sat there fuming.
"You didn't act mute or nothing all night, did you?" she asked with accusation written all over her face. "You didn't make them all think you were stuckup?"
"No, Mama. I talked when I had something to say and when they asked me questions, but the other girls didn't want to hear me talk."
"I bet," Daddy said. "What a mess you put her into!"
"Me? I did no such thing. I tried to get her out with people, to become someone. Don't you go making statements like that. Cameron Goodman,"
"It wasn't Mama's fault. Daddy. There was no way for her to know what it would be like."
"A woman with all her worldly experience ought to have known better," Daddy muttered and returned to his eggs.
Mama took the plate on her table, lifted it above her head and smashed it at his feet. He jumped back instinctively, accidentally hitting the handle of the pan, which sent it sliding over the range and onto the floor, spilling our omelets. It was all over in a split second, but it was as if the roof had caved in on our apartment.
"Look what you've gone and made me do!" Daddy cried.
"I'm tired of you making remarks about my past as if I was some kind of street girl, Cameron. I've told you that a hundred times, and I especially don't appreciate it in front of our daughter.
"Now, you've gone and filled her head with so much nonsense about this music thing, she thinks she can run off to New York and be a show star or something. She goes out on a date and gets up on a stage. I bet Shawn felt stupid."
"Why? He should have been proud she was with him. He should have appreciated her more."
"A man likes his woman to give him all her attention, not flirt with some piano player."
"I didn't flirt with him. Mama. He's just a friend. He plays for us at school. He"
"Oh, I heard all that. You went and showed them you were nothing but a high-school girl. All my work and all that expense down the drain.," she moaned, rose, glared at Daddy once and then marched out of the kitchen.
I started to clean up.
"Don't worry about her." Daddy said. "She'll get over it. You did the right thing not going to that house paity. You'd a been trapped with a bunch of drunks," he said. "She knows that. too. She's just... frustrated," he added and helped pick up the pieces of Mama's broken dish.
This was my fault. I thought.
I should have just insisted on not going out.
I should have stayed home and not tried to be Mama.
Balwin called again in the early afternoon to tell me he had spoken with Mr. Glenn and Mr. Glenn had told him the Senetsky School was so special only a half-dozen new students get in it a year.
"It's not just a school. You live there and she teaches you how to handle the entertainment world, how to behave, dress. act-- everything. Her graduates are all in Broadway shows or in television and film. As soon as you graduate, her son becomes your agent, and he's a very successful agent. It's the closest thing to a guaranteed successful ride into show business, whether you act, sing, dance, play instruments, anything she thinks shows real talent. You've got to do this. Ice. You've just got to give it a shot. I'll help you," Baiwin added.
"I don't know," I said still trembling from the battle Daddy and Mama had in the morning because of me. The house had become a tomb-- no one speaking, no music, barely any movement. Daddy sat in t
he living room rereading the same newspaper and Mama was lying down, a wet cloth over her forehead. fuming. I was afraid to make a sound. I was practically whispering on the phone.
"Something wrong?" Balwin asked.
"No," I said quickly.
"Well. I know this sounds like short notice, but why don't you come on over and we'll tinker around with some possible pieces you could use."