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"It took me a while to decide I was really going to run away. First, I didn't know where I would go. I would never want to go to any of my relatives. I never got along with my cousins on my father's side, and I had no relationship whatsoever with my uncles and aunts. My grandparents would just send me back, special delivery, in fact," I said.

Misty laughed.

"Whether or not I ran off wasn't going to be determined by having enough money. After the filing of divorce papers, my parents fell over themselves to set up a checking account for me, supposedly so I could learn how to be independent. There was also some psychological mumbo-jumbo about giving me a sense of security at a critical time in my emotional and psychological development?' I added with a side glance at Dr. Marlowe.

"Years ago, they had decided that there might be occasions when I would need money and they would both be away on business. It had happened a few times. So they set up an arrangement at their bank to be sure I could get up to five hundred dollars out of their accounts anytime I needed it. I never did, but the opportunity was always there.

"Now, they both contributed a thousand dollars to a checking account of my own, and, in almost a ceremonial manner, presented me with the checkbook and ATM card after dinner one night. Dinners had become like wakes, with their marriage lying in a casket right beside the dining room table. At this point it was rare to hear either of them say, 'We agree,' on anything, but my father reached into his inside jacket pocket after dessert had been served, cleared his throat, glanced at my mother and began as if he were the master of ceremonies on a dais at a banquet. I imagined him tapping his spoon against the glass to get my mother's and my attention.

"'Jade,' he said, 'your mother and I have decided that you are old enough now to have control of your own finances. You have to learn how to manage money. Someday you'll have a great deal of it. Hopefully, most of it will come from your own efforts and not only from what you inherit,' he added with a smile.

"My mother just pressed her lips together and stared down at the table, making little circles in the tablecloth with her forefingers.

"'Anyway, recognizing this need, your mother and I have agreed to open this account for you. You have only to go to the bank at your convenience and finish this signature card to be able to write checks and use the ATM card. It's an interest-bearing account. We both thought that would be economically wise since we don't anticipate you'll be writing very many checks. Anyway,' he said, 'without any more talk, here's your checkbook and your ATM card.'

"He rose and brought it to me. I looked at the checkbook, saw the two thousand dollar balance and looked up at him and then my mother, surprised at the amount. Everything I needed was paid for: clothes, food, transportation. On what would I spend my two thousand dollars? New CD's, magazines?"

"I would have loved to have had that problem," Star grumbled.

"'We each put in a thousand dollars,' my mother wanted me to know and then she added, 'but since he makes more than I do, proportionately, I've obviously put in more than my share.'

"'Now that's not a fair statement,' my father countered. 'You never asked that I contribute any more than you--proportionately or otherwise.'

"'It's just common sense, Michael. With all your business sense, you should know that without anyone having to point it out to you.'

"My father's stiff, regal posture softened as if he had been punched in the stomach.

"'Do you want me to put in more?' he asked.

" `Do what you think is right, Michael,' she said, shifting her eyes toward me with that

conspiratorial look. I knew she wanted me to remember all the things she had said about my father's family and their tendency to be frugal.

"My father looked very uncomfortable, as if he had been trapped. It was like every sentence, every move each of them made was a well-thought-out strategy to make the other look bad in my eyes. I felt as if they were already in court, jousting with lances dipped in venom.

"'Why didn't you bring this up before you had me present her with the checkbook and card, Maureen?'

"'Why should I have to?' sh

e threw back.

"He glanced at me. I could see he was absolutely raging inside. I could see his face turning more and more crimson as if there were a fire under his cheeks.

"'I'll have the accountant work out what is proportionately accurate and add whatever has to be added immediately,' my father promised me.

"'I don't care,' I said. 'I don't want anyone's money,' I added. I wanted to say more. I wanted to say I want my life to go back to what it was. I want you to act like you love each other again and stop all this bickering. I want the war to end. I had all that on the tip of my tongue, but I felt my throat close up and a lump like a small lead ball settle on my heart. I was glad that dinner was over. 'I've got homework to do,' I said. 'May I be excused?'

"'Of course,' my mother said.

"I rose and started away. My father called to me.

"'You might as well hold on to all of this until it's proportionately corrected,' he said as snidely as he could. He held out the checkbook and ATM card and I snatched it out of his hand and practically ran up to my room.

"When I got there, I threw the checkbook across the room. I retrieved it before I went to sleep and when I decided to run off, it came in handy. By then, my father had added an additional seven hundred and fifty dollars and I had gone to the bank and registered the signature card."

Star whistled.

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