“Mrs. Buckley.”
Mom sighs and sets Aidan on his feet, before going to the door to take the receiver from Donna. Mrs. Buckley is mom’s friend Auntie Thelma, who mom laughingly calls a busybody. I don’t like her, and I don’t think Mom does very much either.
She takes the receiver with her, talking as she leaves us in the playroom. Aidan starts to run around again, singing a silly song he made up, so I leave him there with Sue and follow Mom to her sitting room. It’s my favorite place in our whole apartment. It has billowy lace curtains, a reading nook with lots and lots of books, and a soft sofa that smells just like Mom.
She is standing by the windows with the receiver to her ear. “No, it’s fine,” I hear her say. “Thanks for telling me.”
From the sound of her voice, I know something is wrong. She stands still for a few moments, then starts to press the buttons on the receiver. When she puts it to her ear and starts talking again, her voice is angry, the way it always sounds when she’s fighting with Dad.
“Someone saw you!” she says accusingly. “You had dinner with her and then you went upstairs together. Do you know how embarrassed I am? How am I supposed to believe you when the same thing keeps happening all the time?”
I don’t understand everything she says, but I can tell that she’s mad at Dad. After a few more words, she tosses the receiver at the wall, then puts her face in her hands as it clatters to the floor. She’s sobbing loudly. I wish Dad would come home right now. He’ll tell her he loves her and she’ll be happy again.
“Mom?”
She spins around and sees me, then she quickly turns away again, but not before I see the tears on her face.
“Mom…” I try to think of something to say. All the things Dad usually says to make her smile, but now I can’t remember anything.
She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. When she turns around again, she’s smiling. She doesn’t want me to know she was crying, but I already saw, and her eyes are still red. “Hey sweetheart,” she murmurs. “I thought you were in your playroom with Aidan.”
“It’s Aidan’s playroom. I’m not a baby.”
That makes her smile. “Okay.”
I go to pick the receiver from the floor and place it on the coffee table. “You were fighting with Dad.”
She smiles again. “Don’t worry about it sweetheart. It was just…” she sighs. “It was nothing.”
I nod. “He’s coming home today,” I remind her, hoping it will cheer her u
p. “You can make up when he gets here.”
The smile disappears from her face. “No,” she says, her voice changing. “By the time he comes, we’ll be gone.”
MOM is speeding. She hardly ever drives, except when we’re at our house upstate and she doesn’t want the chauffeur. She didn’t want him today. She made Donna pack up a case each for Aidan and me, and she put them in Dad’s green Ferrari and buckled us in the back.
Aidan is looking at me, his eyes wide. His tiny hands are tight around Alfred, his bear. Even he knows that something is wrong. “Are we going to see Daddy?” he asks hopefully.
I can’t think of anything to tell him, so I ruffle his hair. He likes that. “Where’re we going?” I ask mom.
She doesn’t reply. We’re already out of the city, but we’re not going in the direction of our house.
“Where’re we going?” I ask again.
“For God’s sake,” she snaps at me. “Keep quiet and let me drive.”
“You’re scaring Aidan,” I tell her. I’m scared too. I don’t want my parents to get a divorce.
Mom doesn’t reply. Instead, she starts to drive faster, till it feels like we’re flying over the highway.
Aidan peers out of the window just as we zoom past a big truck. “Mommy?” he cries.
“Now you’ve upset him,” Mom snaps.
I fold my arms. “I didn’t upset him. You upset him.”
“Landon…”