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“Dad’s not dating that woman anymore,” she said, even though she knew Mom didn’t like to hear about him. Just in case she was only with Don because she knew Dad was taken—which Kelsey had told her to try to make her jealous and come home.
“Mmm,” Mom said, as if she didn’t even hear her. Kelsey looked over at her, a little worried about the next couple of hours.
“I’m really glad.”
She glanced over, not sure her mother had heard. “It’s not that she was bad or anything,” she added for some reason. “I mean, I didn’t hate her, she just wasn’t, you know…”
You, she wanted to say. But Mom wasn’t listening. She was driving, staring out the front window, but her mouth was open a bit and her eyes stayed closed too long when she blinked.
“So how’s Don been?” Kelsey asked, making her voice as cheerful as she could. She only got to be with her mom once a week, except that one Thursday that Mom called her away from Josie—and that couldn’t happen anymore because Kelsey didn’t have enough good excuses to keep Josie’s mom from telling Dad that she was gone.
And with only this one day, she didn’t want Mom to be in one of her scary moods. She wanted her to be happy. Kelsey used to be able to make her happy all the time.
She wanted her to stay awake and not wreck the car.
“Mom?” she asked more sharply. “How’s Don been?”
“On the road most of the week.”
“He’s gone now?” She was glad about that, except that she’d wanted to ask him some questions about his friend—Kenny’s father. Kenny might like it if, when she saw him on Monday to take him more crystals for his art, she could tell him about his dad.
And maybe, someday soon, he’d show her some of his art.
“Did you say something?” her mother asked, her eyes tired-looking as she glanced over.
They were almost at the house.
“Is Don gone now?”
“No, he got back this morning.”
“Are you feeling sick?”
“What?” Mom glanced over at her again, really starting to scare her. Something wasn’t right. “Oh, no,” she said, without Kelsey having to repeat what she’d said this time. “I’m just tired, honey. I’ll be fine when we get back to the house. Don’s making me a cup of coffee. He makes the best coffee.”
Well, okay, then. If she was just tired, and wasn’t going to start yelling at her or throwing up or anything. She needed a ride back to Josie’s before Dad came to get her.
THEY WERE ONLY at the house for a couple of minutes before Mom disappeared through the garage door. At first Kelsey just looked around. The place was messier than usual, with dirty dishes, even a cereal bowl with gross milk in the bottom of it on the table by the couch, and papers and books and stuff lying where usually they sat.
When her legs got tired, she pushed some of the stuff aside and sat on the rocker, and from there she could see the garage door. A lot of time had passed and Mom still hadn’t come back. Kelsey figured she’d gone out to tell Don they were home, but she didn’t know that for sure. He might be in some other part of the house. Maybe taking a nap.
He could get up and find Kelsey there. She didn’t want to be caught in his living room alone without her mom.
She looked at the garage door again. Maybe she should just go and get her to come back in.
And why was Mom taking so long when they only had a little time together? She said she wanted to see Kelsey as much as Kelsey wanted to see her. That was why she was paying a lawyer.
What if she wasn’t just tired but she was sick and she didn’t want to make Kelsey worry?
Kelsey stood up. Then sat back down, staring at the garage door. She wished Josie was there and that she could ask her what to do.
Something that sounded like a click came from somewhere else in the house. A door opening? She couldn’t be sitting there if Don came out. What if he walked around the house in his underwear, like Josie said her dad sometimes did?
Gross. She did not want to see Don in his underwear. That would be worse than his teeth.
That did it. Kelsey stood up and went to the edge of the kitchen where the garage door was. Maybe she’d just stand there with her hand on the knob, in case Don came out. Maybe she’d hear her mom in there talking to someone.
She didn’t hear anything. Even when she held her ear to the door. She’d never been in any other part of the house, never even as far in as she was now, and she wished she still hadn’t been. The kitchen was worse than the living room. The floor had pieces missing, one of the counters was cracked, and there were dishes and boxes and trash and empty bottles everywhere. And a hot plate, as if Mom never cooked on a real stove. But there was one of those, too, and it looked like someone had spilled junk on it a long time ago and never cleaned it up.
