“It’s time for you to go back,” Mom says as we gaze at the college acceptance letter that has just arrived in the mail. The fact that it’s the only one I’ve received has blown my world into pieces.
“You say that like it’ll be so easy.” I toss the letter onto the table, and Mom picks it up, rereading it as if we might have made a mistake. There’s no mistake.
I only applied to Eastern as an absolute back up, fully expecting to get into at least one of my other preferred choices. It seems that my grades just weren’t quite enough. Psychology is a competitive subject.
“Your dad will be glad to have you live with him for a while,” Mom says.
“You think?” My voice is filled with the disbelief that comes from seven years of no visits. Ever since Mom’s job brought us to the West Coast, my relationship with my dad has been reduced to sporadic phone calls and gifts for the holidays. Mom has always told me not to take it personally, but I don’t know how else to take it. I guess his life just got busy when he remarried. My stepmom, Janice, has five sons, and Dad slipped into the role of father to boys easily. He always wanted a son. Now he has a handful.
“Of course.” Mom rests her hand on my shoulder. I know part of her feels guilty for moving so far away, but it was a financial necessity, and I don’t blame her at all. I’ve had a great time growing up here, and moving on is going to be tough.
“Can you call him?” I say. “I don’t want to have to ask if he has space for me to stay. If he says no, I think I’ll just get angry.”
“Sure,” she says. “I’ll do it now.”
“I’m going to my room,” I say, “to lie down.”
Mom’s already dialing dad, but she tugs me into a quick hug, and I bury my face in her neck, breathing in her familiar floral scent. It’s only when I hear Dad’s voice answering that I pull away. I don’t want to be in the same room while she’s having this conversation.
I flop down onto my bed, gazing up at the cracked ceiling. I love our old house, but it really is starting to need some serious renovation. Since my parents’ divorce, Mom has never really had the money to do much more than patch things up. Dad, by contrast, has an amazing house with seven bedrooms.
Seven.
Who the hell has seven bedrooms?
The man with five stepsons and one absent daughter, I guess.
It looks like the room that has sat empty for years will be filled soon, though.
I wonder what my spoiled-brat stepbrothers will think of that?
