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"Maybe she doesn't want it. You ever think of that?" "Of course she wants it. Don't you, Cathy?" I asked her, practically pleading for her to agree.
She looked like she would cry.
"Don't you see that you're doing the same thing to her that your parents are doing to you?" Misty asked. "What?"
"Trying to get her to take sides," she said.
I stared at her for a moment and then sat back. Star glared at me, and Cathy quietly ate her cookie, her eyes fixed on her lemonade.
Actually, Misty wasn't wrong. There had been something in my voice that reminded me of how my parents spoke to me now, that pleading to get me to agree with one or the other.
&n
bsp; "She's right. I'm sorry," I said. "I was really trying to be helpful. I guess I should learn when to keep my mouth shut."
"Amen," Star said.
"You're not perfect," I charged.
"I'm not? Why bless my soul. I thought considering my wonderful home life and upbringing, I was a thing to behold," she said.
Misty laughed.
So did I.
Just as Dr. Marlowe returned.
"Well, I'm glad everyone's getting along so well," she said, and that made us all laugh, even Cat.
3
"Once my parents decided to do battle over custody, the beautifully carved figures on the civilized chessboard of divorce changed to tiny knives they tried to stick into each other," I said. "In other words, things got nastier and nastier until today they rarely speak directly to each other. Civility hangs by a thin thread. What will become of me?" I declared in the voice of a Southern belle, like Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With the Wind. Misty laughed.
"Sometimes, if I'm in the same room with the both of them, my mother will say, 'Jade, please tell your father we're having trouble with the garbage disposal,' and my father will respond gruffly with, 'Tell her I already know about it and I'm taking care of it.' "
"So you really don't tell either of them what the other said, right?" Misty asked.
"Right. I'm like a filter through which the words they direct toward each other now have to go. I don't think I've ever had to actually repeat anything. As long as the words are directed toward me, it's all right."
"I couldn't stand that for very long," Star said. "I know it's miserable when they're spitting hate at each other, but I don't like being in the middle."
"Me neither. One day last week when they were having a conversation through me, I put my hands over my ears and I started to scream 'Leave me alone! Stop filling me up with all this garbage!'
"I thought I might tear the hair right out of my head. I know I was so red in the face I felt like I had a fever, but instead of worrying about what I was going through, they just began attacking each other.
"'Look what you're doing to her,' my father accused.
"'Me? It's you. You're the one who's putting us all through this ridiculous legal charade. Do you really think for one moment any judge in his right mind is going to grant you custody?'
"'If he's in his right mind, that's all he can do,' my father responded:
"I turned and ran out of the room. I could hear them shouting at each other for a few more minutes. It was like the winding down of a storm, the slow rolling of thunder farther and farther toward the horizon until there was nothing but the drip, drip, drip of my own tears."
"I don't know how they continue to live in the same house," Misty said, shaking her head.
"Where does your father sleep now?" Star asked.
"In one of the guest rooms. That was something else that caused problems. He asked me to help move his clothing into the guest room. I didn't want to see that happening, but I didn't think it was any big deal for me to help him Of course, as I did, he complained about my mother more and more and then she came home and saw me helping him and went ballistic.
