Page 59 of Collision


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“Hi Dad.”

“Hi, my baby. Go sit. Dinner’s ready.”

We walked over to the kitchen table that was already set.

“You didn’t have to break out the fine China for us,” Shelly teased, picking up the paper plate in front of her.

“Shut up!” I whispered.

“With the easy cleanup, you don’t have to help with the dishes later,” Betty stated matter-of-factly. “You’re welcome.”

I laughed. “Nice, Betty.”

We sat while Don brought out a heaping bowl of spaghetti. “Mangia!” he shouted in Italian, gesturing for us to dig in.

I giggled. “I miss hearing that.”

“Now that you’re feeling better, maybe you can convince my daughter to visit us more often,” Betty said.

“Here comes the guilt trip,” Shelly warned. “That only took five minutes. You beat your last record.”

“Your father and I just miss you, that’s all.”

“How’s everything?” Don was always the peacemaker between the two women in his life. “How’s Brody? How’s school?”

“Good and fine.”

“Well, that was riveting information,” he joked.

She shrugged. “There’s not much to tell.” She made eye contact with me, giving me a look that read: do not tell my parents that my boyfriend is planning to move in with me.

I gave her a look back that asked: what’s the big deal?

“Here they go with the telepathic conversations, again.” Don laughed and shook his head. “You girls have been doing that since you were five.”

Betty wagged her finger. “That means there is news to discuss. What’s so important that you can’t tell your dear old parents?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I shoved a forkful of spaghetti into my mouth.

Shelly did the same with her chicken.

“What about you, Merritt? Anything new with you?”

I shook my head and swallowed. “Same crap, different day.”

“Have you decided when you’re going to finish school?” Betty asked.

I twirled more spaghetti around my fork. “Not yet.”

“She got a job, though,” Shelly piped in.

Don raised his eyebrows. “Where?”

“At an auto body shop.”

“Right up your alley! Which one?”

I shoved another forkful into my mouth, trying to stall my answer.

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