Three Wishes

She sighed. “You’re probably right.”

I added another entry in my journal of Brutal Teen Truths. Do not teach your mother to use the Internet. No good can come of it. This joined tidbits of painfully acquired information like: You will always get a zit when you need to look good, and It’s very difficult for teens to hire a hit man.

I’d started out with “One Million Reasons Divorce Sucks,” but after two years, it had fallen by the wayside. Just to be thorough, I added a few more to that list. I was up to seven hundred and ten. Then, I spent a few hours on the Internet, trying to distract myself. When it hit me that Mom’s new boyfriend probably had a site, I ran a search.

Donald Waller, Independent Insurance Agent. He had a site all right. I clicked the link and music blared from my speakers when the site loaded. It sounded like an action movie soundtrack, but as the intro started, I realized it must be some kind of superhero music. The intro showed a red cartoon car crashing into a blue one. Bam! The word was surrounded by that funny looking balloon, like in a comic book. Then an animated figure in a cape swooped in. His costume proclaimed him to be “Captain Coverage.”

The intro ended and a picture came up of Captain Coverage. Only this time, he had a cut-out real picture of his face photo-shopped over the cartoon. Donald Waller was a big-time, fifty-something geek.

The rest of the site looked pretty normal. Like an insurance website should, I guess.

I could probably live through Mom leaving me for four months a lot easer than I could do without her forever. This guy looked scary. Internet dating wasn’t safe, was it? And Seattle was forever away. A six-hour plane ride. A four-day drive. Two days by train. Okay, so I’d looked into it.

I shut down my laptop and went in to my mother’s room. She was asleep, and the digital clock next to the bed read 12:30.

“Mom,” I said, creeping around the oversized furniture in the room.

She jumped and opened her eyes. She’d always been a light sleeper. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“No, but I need to talk to you.” She didn’t look so hot without her makeup.

She blinked. “Okay.”

“I just went to Donald’s website,” I said.

“Yes.” She sat up and tugged at the comforter.

“And, um, he doesn’t seem entirely normal.”

Mom nodded wearily. “You know, Ally. We all have our little quirks. He’s a huge comic book fan. He’s really a decent guy though.”

“What if he’s not? What if he’s a serial killer and he chops you into bits?”

Mom winced. “He’s not, Ally. I don’t take my safety lightly. Stacy Barnett was by the office the other day. She’s the private investigator the firm uses.”

I nodded.

The brown smudges under her eyes added years to her appearance. “I had her do a background check. Everything looks fine.”

I crossed my arms. “All that means is that he hasn’t murdered anybody yet.”

“Right. And that’s all he knows about me too. I know it’s rough right now, but it will be okay. We may not really hit it off, but he won’t hurt me.”

Not like my dad did when he cheated on her. She didn’t say it, but I knew she was thinking it. “I’m going to bed now.”

“Good night, Sweetie. I love you.” She held out her arms and I leaned in for a hug. She squeezed extra tight, and for a moment I felt like a well-protected little girl again.

“I love you too,” I said and ambled back to my room. Compared to a brutal murder, a short-term abandonment seemed do-able.