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"You poor thing," Star said. She turned back to me. "And you have a maid and gardeners and a cook to go with your expensive wardrobe, I bet," she said.
"Yes, I do as a matter-of-fact. The current maid's name is Rosina Tores. She's about twenty-five and from Venezuela, and my cook's name is Mrs. Caron. She's from France and was once a cordon bleu cook for a famous restaurant:'
"Our maid is our cook," Misty said. "You have a separate cook? Wow."
"So you have a big home and cars and a maid and a fancy cook and I still say, big deal," Star declared. "Stop paying the maid and the cook and limousine driver and you'll see how fast they stop caring about you," she added. "And when you go home, you just have more room for your loneliness in your great big house. With all your money, you can
't buy what I have."
"What's that, poverty?"
"No, a granny who gives me love and not because she's hired to do it," she said with glee. She looked like a little girl sticking a pin into someone else's beautiful balloon.
I looked at Dr. Marlowe. Her eyes were fixed so hard on me, I felt my face grow warm.
"I have grandparents," I said.
"You do?" Misty asked, the expression on her face looking as though she anticipated all sorts of warm stories about family gatherings and holidays. I hated to disappoint her almost more than I hated disappointing myself. Wait until they heard about my last Christmas, I thought.
"Yes, they just live far away. My father's parents live back East. He has two brothers and a sister and they are all married and have children, too. My mother's parents live in Boca Raton, Florida. They're retired. My mother has one brother who works on Wall Street. He's not married?'
"What do your grandparents say about the divorce?" Misty asked.
"Not much, at least to me. My father's parents have told him to work out his problems and my mother's have told her they are too old to deal with these kinds of crises now. They want to be left to their golf and bridge games."
"Do they ask you to visit them?" Star wanted to know.
"They have, but not lately," I confessed. "They all probably think I'm a big mess and they can't deal with it. I don't like visiting with them anyway," I added. "There's nothing for me to do and they all complain too much about their aches and pains and digestion.
"Besides," I realized aloud, "if I decided to visit my father's parents, my mother would want me to visit hers and spend equal time."
"They'd fight over that?" Misty asked, astounded.
"They fight over postage stamps. My house is like a war zone these days. Sometimes, I feel like I'm risking my life just walking between them."
"You mean, they both still live there in the house together?" Cat asked astonished.
I had almost forgotten about her because she was so quiet. I certainly didn't expect she was following my every word so closely.
"Yes, they do. Of course, they don't share the same bedroom anymore, but they are both at home when they're here in Los Angeles."
"Why?" Misty asked, grimacing. "I mean, if they are in the middle of a bad divorce and all, why would they want to still be living together?"
"My mother let it slip that at first my father wanted to move out, but his lawyer explained to him that in general, if one parent has moved out of the home without the child by the time the trial has started, it will be more difficult for that parent to win custody of the child. She says that's the only reason he's still with us."
"Wow," Misty said. "Your father must really love you if he is willing to stay in an emotional fire zone just because of that."
"Her mother could move out, but didn't. Don't forget that," Star reminded her.
"They're not doing it for me," I said through clenched teeth. I didn't realize I was pressing my teeth together, something I'd caught myself doing more and more lately.
"Who are they doing it for?" Cat asked.
"Themselves. I told you. I'm a prize, a trophy, a way of one getting it over on the other. Don't you listen?"
She shook her head.
They all still looked confused about all these legal maneuvers that occurred in a custody battle. I gazed at Dr. Marlowe, who wore a small smile on her lips.
