Cole didn’t know what to say. It was obvious his father was lying. He remembered what his mother had said to him the day he left to go spend a few weeks with Kevin. I know you love your dad and I’m happy that you’re going to have some time with him. But remember, all that glitters isn’t gold… Whatever, Mom. See you in a couple of weeks.
He hadn’t even been sad to leave her. He hadn’t, in fact, given her a backward glance; she was too strict, too paranoid, always on his case about homework and who he was hanging out with. And when she found that joint, he thought she was going to have an aneurysm. Then, on the computer, he’d discovered that she’d been looking at those discipline summer camps. He’d wanted to get away from her and stay with Kevin. His father, Cole had thought, was smart and cool and had money. Not like his mother, who could barely make ends meet.
“Are you okay?” Cole asked
Kevin blew out a breath, tried for a smile. “I’m sorry, son,” he said. “This is not what I had planned for your visit.”
His father had been full of promises about the kind of summer they’d have together. But Kevin was often gone before Cole got up, sometimes didn’t get home until very late. They’d played golf once. He had also, once, taken Cole and the kids to the beach. But Kevin was just on his phone the whole time, while Cole took care of the kids. Since school started, he’d hardly seen his father at all.
“It’s okay, Dad. Don’t worry about it.”
Cole wanted to ask more about Paula, but something told him not to. Kevin’s cell phone started ringing then. He glanced at it, his nose wrinkling as if he’d smelled something foul.
“I have to take this, okay?” Kevin said. He picked up the phone and looked down at the desk. “Hey, Greg. What’s up?… I know. I know… You’ll have it tomorrow.”
Cole rose and moved to the door. He stood there a minute, not knowing whether he should leave or not. He wanted to turn on the light, so Kevin wouldn’t be sitting there with just the computer screen on. There was something really depressing about that. But instead, after a moment, he simply closed the door and left.
Cole walked into Cameron’s room and sat on his little brother’s bed. He looked around at Cam’s mounds of toys and shelves of books. Then Cole put his head down on the sheets that were covered with planets and stars and smelled of Johnson’s Baby Shampoo.
Cole remembered how he’d lied to Willow about his mother being in Iraq. He didn’t even know why he’d done that; it was such a stupid lie. He’d have to keep it up if he went to her house. She’d ask about it, and he’d have to keep lying. And he’d have to pretend that everything was okay, that he was cool and in control. He couldn’t tell her that he was nearly sick from wondering where his mother had gone. And now Paula, Cameron, and Claire had gone as well. Something wasn’t right. Lots of things weren’t right. But he had no idea what he was supposed to do about any of it. He hadn’t realized how exhausting it was to be sad all the time. He was thinking that as he fell asleep.
He didn’t come. Not at four. Not at five. At five fifteen Willow moved away from the window and threw herself in front of the television. Her mother was making dinner in the kitchen.
In a way Willow wasn’t even surprised. She started to wonder if she’d imagined the whole thing-him appearing at her locker, the excited and surprised lift in her heart. She wasn’t the girl that boys liked; she was the weird one with the orange hair and the poky elbows. She wasn’t the pretty one with long-lashed eyes and big boobs. She was just Willow. He was probably only making fun of her. He went back to Jolie, and they had a good laugh.
“Where’s your friend?” her mom asked. She stood in the doorway wearing an apron dusted with flour. She held a dishcloth in her hand. Willow’s mother was beautiful; everyone said so. Willow knew that she herself looked like her father, who, honestly, was not her mother’s equal in the looks department. In the pictures they had, he looked skinny and goofy. She wondered what Bethany had ever seen in him. He was a wonderful man. He wasn’t like any of the other men I’ve known. So he was a freak. Maybe that’s why Willow was such a misfit; it was hereditary.
She thought about lying-telling her that Cole had called and said he had too much homework, or that he got called into work, something responsible that didn’t make him a screwup who broke his promises like Richard. But she didn’t.
“I don’t know,” she said. She stared at the screen, some stupid cartoon. She didn’t even know what she was watching. “He stood me up, I guess.”
She tried not to cry, but a big tear escaped from her eye. She batted it away.
“Oh, Willow,” said her mom. Bethany sat next to her, and Willow fitted herself into her mother’s arms. “I’m sure he had an important reason.”
“He could have called,” said Willow.
“Maybe his car broke down or something like that. Just give him the benefit of the doubt until you know better.”
“I guess,” she said. But already she was feeling that dark place growing, that angry, disappointed hole in her middle.
“I know how hard it is to be your age, Willow. I remember.”
“When does it get easier?”
Her mother issued a little laugh. “It gets different. Let’s put it that way.”
“Great.”
Her mother switched off the television with the remote. And they sat like that, listening to the rain hit the windows. Her mother rubbed her back, and Willow closed her eyes. The room was warm, and the couch was soft.
She must have dozed off, because when she woke up, she was alone on the couch and she could hear her mother on the phone. Her voice had a funny tone, soft and sweet.
“No, I don’t think it’s inappropriate,” she said. “I think it’s fine.”
Bethany laughed then, and she sounded so light and happy that it made Willow angry in a weird way. How can she be happy when I’m so miserable?
“That sounds nice,” Bethany said. “Okay.”
When Willow walked into the kitchen, the table was set for three. Bethany had made pizza from scratch. As her mother hung up the phone, Willow cleared the third place. She didn’t need to eat dinner reminded that she’d been stood up.
“Who was that?” she asked when her mother hung up the phone.
Her mother was using the pizza cutter to make slices in the pie. The kitchen was a disaster-sauce and flour everywhere. Bethany was not a tidy cook.
“I thought you were sleeping,” said Bethany, not looking at Willow. But she had this big smile on her face.
“Who was it?” asked Willow. “Not Richard? He’s not still coming this weekend, is he?”
“No, it wasn’t Richard,” said Bethany. “And I don’t know if Richard is still planning on coming this weekend. Do you want him to? You guys haven’t talked in months.”
“I really couldn’t care less,” said Willow. She brought the salad to the table and flopped down in her seat.
“Well, I told him he could come if he wanted to,” she said. “Either way, we’ll do something fun. We should check out that old cider mill. It’s supposed to be really cool.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Willow. “It sounds like a blast.”
They spent the rest of the meal talking about school-her classes, Mr. Vance, how maybe she should try out for drama next year. Then, after dinner, Bethany helped Willow answer her essay question about A Separate Peace: “Did Gene purposely knock Fin from the branch? Why or why not? If he did, what does it say about Gene and the friendship he shared with Fin?” Mom thought that was such a great question. But Willow just thought it was a cheat, since they’d been discussing it all week in class. Plus, she’d already read the book in seventh grade. But Mr. Vance said he liked to teach it again because the themes were so “complicated.”